everyone knows its windy
by therewithasmile
Summary: Collection of in-verse shikatema drabbles. Sister to post-canon drabble dump: 4572 days later.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone!_

_I decided to create this as a drabble dump. It's going to contain only shikatema and will be of various genres. _

_I get a good amount of requests on tumblr so these are usually written there and then dumped here. If you would like to request, feel free to inbox me on my tumblr (url: therewithasmile) or PM me here! _

_I probably won't do much rambling pre-drabble like I usually do; just leaving the actual request as a prologue to the drabble itself. _

_Enjoy! Feel free to leave a review as well. _

_\- muse._

.::[::]::.

[shikatema w/ "I like when you smile." :^)]

For once, the peace didn't feel artificial.

It should be a crime for so many shinobi to be off work solely because there _was _no work to be done. The days lazily stretched by, the chuunin exams had come and gone without a hitch, and soon it was time for jonin recommendations. To Shikamaru, it was obvious who would get promoted, but they insisted on calling him to the meeting anyway in place of his father (even though he had made a point that even _he _wasn't jonin, but the looks the entire council gave him sufficed).

And somehow, things happened with Temari. He didn't know exactly how it happened but things fell into place. When the war winded down he didn't really want to talk about the Infinite Tsukuyomi and apparently, neither did she, but both were super conscious of each others presence during the chuunin exams. When they'd walk together their hands would touch and it would be fleeting moments, but their fingers would curl together before falling away naturally.

They would eat at restaurants; she particularly liked dango so they'd stop by to pick up some dumplings. They would watch the lazy street activity together, idly chatting and speculating who they think were the best candidates. Before they knew it her face seemed a lot closer and they'd realize they were both leaning in, but they'd ignore what were probably danger signs flashing in the back of his head and she'd offer one of the dumplings to him, which he'd accept without a word.

Over the month, they had been asked how they were doing, what they were doing, if they were _more than friends_. When it came from Sakura or Naruto, they'd both roll their eyes and just tell them to interpret what they will. However when it came from Kakashi or Gai, there was almost a hint of sagely knowledge that they'd look at each other and just shrug.

Yes, he didn't know when it happened but they had both stopped denying it. Denying the connection they felt, and whether it was always there or just spurred on by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the way they gravitated towards each other like it was natural.

Their relationship was comfortable, it was a perfectly ambiguous _not dating _but he didn't deny the butterflies he felt for her, nor the way his fingers would stretch for her hand, ready to take on more than just a few digits. Somehow that happened as well – they wouldn't hold on for long but when their hands _happened _to meet up again they would take turns initiating.

He frowned as he crossed off another day from his calendar; when Temari was due to go back to the Sand. She had stayed back a couple extra days to help Yoshino out while he attended meetings and organized new chuunin teams. When he returned home, the sand shinobi took him by the hand and dragged him right back outside, to his stuttering protests. To his relief he saw that she was taking him to a familiar rooftop, where they both flopped down and stared at the sky.

He soon found his fingers riding the dangerous magnetic pull towards her own, and as natural as it was to breathe, they interlaced with hers. They relaxed in a comfortable silence, his mind filling with only thoughts of Temari. Temari who had been in his dream, who is a part of his reality, and who meant more to him than he had expected. Temari who was currently turned away from him, but her hands were rough to the touch, but warm and still slimmer than any other hands that he had ever seen.

He didn't realize he was ogling until she turned to him. His eyes rolled over her face, memorizing every contour, the exact shade of her eyes, the way her lips moved when they broke into a gentle smile. He somehow had the privilege to be with her for the past few weeks, almost spending every waking moment with her. Now she was going home and this would be the last time he saw her in _who knows _how long. The thought kind of made him sad.

"I like it when you smile," he couldn't help but to blurt. His eyes watched as her mouth faltered, watched how a slight pink dusted her cheeks as her eyes suddenly fell, unable to keep with his own gaze. She chuckled lightly, her laugh rough around the edges but it was _nice_, somehow soothing to his ears.

"Are you confessing to me?" she teased lightly. She flexed her fingers against his before she unabashedly met his gaze, blush still evident on her cheeks.

This woman was something else.

He squeezed her hand.

"Nah."


	2. Chapter 2

_Relative silliness._

..::[::]::..

[I could see Temari having really bad problems with period cramps and cravings, and Shikamaru has to deal with them just as much as she does.]

"Fucking, fuck, _fuck_, always the wrong _fucking_ time," and if Shikamaru hadn't been counting how many times his associate had been hissing swears, he would have burst out laughing mid-meeting. He tried to keep his composure, but the Sand shinobi had progressed from small fidgets of discomfort into full-blown swears in a matter of a seconds, and he was soon forced to keep his mind occupied. Ibiki was _not _a man to mess with; so much as a snigger and he could probably whip that chalk right into someone's eye socket and out the back of their brains.

It seemed like Temari didn't even care for subtleties anymore as she shifted around in her seat before inhaling painfully. It was only when the bigger, bulkier, and hell_uvalot_ scarier ninja turned around with deliberate slowness, did Shikamaru tense as he could already deduce the coming conversation.

"Is there trouble there, Sand?"

If it were any other ninja, they probably would've backed down. Especially those who had participated in chuunin exams, when the Konoha-nin revealed his scarred head and the horrors he was subjected to.

But then again, this was Temari.

This was also Temari on her- "I'm on my period," the blonde said boldly, scooching her chair back with a screech and standing with a surprisingly commanding presence. "So I'm going to take a walk."

The Konoha nin blinked, along with the rest of the male-dominated council. Suddenly Shikamaru understood _why _they all seemed apprehensive, and they didn't protest as she took their silence as confirmation as she took her stack of papers under one arm. "I'm also taking him with me," she added, pointing a finger at the shadow nin.

Sputter of protests burst through his lips but one glare from Ibiki stopped him from unleashing a string of swear words that would have gotten him more screwed than saying nothing. The scarred ninja nodded gravely, almost as if he were wishing the Nara luck as he felt the back of his shirt collar being tugged on. _Are you kidding me, _he thought with exasperation, unable to fight the Sand nin who literally dragged him out into the hall.

As soon as they were left in silence, Shikamaru stood straight and groaned. "Really?" he muttered, not even attempting to disguise his mortification. She shot him an exasperated look as she placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, spine cracking at the motion as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank god, periods are _such_ a _bitch_," she exclaimed, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Shikamaru rolled his eyes and slid down the wall he had begun to lean on, balancing on his haunches as he exhaled loudly.

"Why did you drag me out with you?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're my _guide_," the blonde's eyebrows wiggled, though her teal eyes were near humourless as she straightened and tapped her chin. "I need you to direct me to a drug store, Nara."

"I gave you a _map_."

"And the Hokage gave me _you_, so suck it up, you're coming with me." Before he could even open his mouth to protest, Temari stalked off briskly. He could only watch in horror as she returned to the reception area of the chuunin exam building, her pointed posture all but indicating he had no choice.

_Woman's crazy_, he thought indignantly as he followed her. He briefly entertained the thought of returning to the meeting, but he had winced away from what Ibiki would say about _that_. He was a simple guy who just didn't want conflict – and it looked like the best thing for _that _was to play _lap puppy _for his escort.

_How troublesome_.

"What did you say?!" said-escort snarled suddenly, whirling around with such a vehemence that the shadow nin had already raised his arms reflexively to block any type of attack the Sand nin would've thrown at him.

"- Nothing! I actually said _nothing_!" He retorted, mentally wincing as his voice came out higher with panic because this lady was actually _insane_. Her teal eyes narrowed coldly as she picked up her fan from the array of weapons left at the reception, fastening it on her back with a scarily audible _click_. He gulped reflexively. That sound was never good. _Why is it always me,_ he thought again, trying to ignore the way she regarded him and how it even more diminishing than usual.

Temari sighed, the exhale beginning quiet but by the time she blew the rest of her breath, had escalated to a voiced groan. "Just watch your mouth, okay?"

If he hadn't known any better he wouldn't have picked up on her _special_ way of apologizing, yet somehow the shadow nin was already adjusted to the woman's gruff way of speech. He sighed and took the lead instead, the blonde falling into step behind him. As troublesome as she was, he couldn't help but to smirk as a new wave of expletives flowed from her mouth like a broken faucet, finding himself surprisingly entertained by the string of words he reckoned no Konoha nin had even _attempted_ to put together.


	3. Chapter 3

_In which Shikamaru and Temari are already dating, but are trying their hand at the long distance thing._

_also, this was written in present tense._

.::[::]::.

[Temari is sick and she gives Shikamaru a list of items to buy and he is totally clueless because it's a very complicated list. :3]

"Are you even _listening_?" she barely rasps, her voice ragged from sickness but otherwise her tone is still as sharp as a whip. Shikamaru grimaces because he really _didn't_, but he nods along anyways and tries to ignore the fact that her eyes narrow in suspicion.

Jeez, why was he even here?

It was a mission perhaps but he had received no prior knowledge as to why he had been summoned to Sunagakure. When the Hokage merely chortled at whatever paper he was holding, did Shikamaru decide it wasn't even worth questioning should he, the advisor, take a week's absence from his post. When he had arrived at Suna, the last thing he expected was to be summoned to Temari's side.

He didn't expect her to call him over when she had only done something as trivial as fallen _ill_. Apparently it was important though, because here she stood, mouthing him off, and though they had been together for a year now, he couldn't truthfully admit that he enjoyed being placed in this position much. (Honestly, no one ever did).

So as she sighs and hands him over a sheet of neatly folded paper, he nearly bristles when he realizes that he could've avoided the entire lecture should she have given him the list in the first place. But when she coughs weakly into her hand, her normally strong frame shaking from the effort, does his gaze soften and he gives her hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be back soon," he promises, to which she grumbles (kind of cutely) and hides her face back under the covers.

Leaving her house behind him, Shikamaru pulls the sheet of paper he had hastily stowed in his pocket out, smoothening the creases to read her script.

And then he realizes that he can't even interpret it.

His head whips around to the door he had just recently closed, a string of tactics and words he could say to his blonde girlfriend already at his tongue, but he swallows them back because he realizes that he doesn't want to deal with sick _and_ angry Temari. That in itself would be too troublesome. So was it even worth his time to get the decoding corps to do it?

_Ugh_. From the limited interaction he had with the decode corps back in Konoha, he had deduced that the language was more or less a cipher. At worse, he could ask.

As he walks through the Suna Marketplace (always as crowded as he could remember), he is finally somewhat able to begin building the stack of items he needs for her. His frustration grows as he decides that this list seems more like a grocery list than a \_I called you here because I'm dying please buy these items' _kind of list, and as he's picking out two apples, specifically two, he didn't know why, he wonders for the umpteenth time why he's bothering with the crazy woman in the first place.

Halfway down the stupid sheet of paper and his hands are holding two filled bags each, does he finally get to the medicine portion of the list. Even with the friendly help of the locals, the scrawled names of what he assumes are herbs and medicinal remedies are lost to him. He vaguely wishes that a certain pink-haired medical nin was available to help translate, but he pushes his hopes aside and instead ducks into a pharmacy to get substitutions.

_She'd better not complain,_ he thinks with a hint of aggression, because this was definitely not what he signed up for and _not_ what he spent three days travelling for. _I'm doing my best for her, after all._

* * *

"What the _hell_ are these," she mutters as she sifts through the bags of groceries. He can't help but to roll his eyes and sigh, though her souring expression is enough to cut his moment of indulgence and instead be at her side. "_Vitamins?_" she questions incredulously, shaking the innocent white bottle between two slim fingers.

He sits down on the edge of the bed as the blonde tosses the bottle back into the bag before rifling through it some more. "Jeez, Shikamaru," she breathes, her tone equally teasing yet also somewhat furious and the shadow nin pins the blame on her illness.

"It helps if you wrote it in a language I could understand," he quips as she picks up another bottle, her lip sliding into a pensive pout. He rolls her eyes as she swats weakly at his arm, stating furiously that she was too _damn sick _to bother trying to translate languages. He ignores the obvious argument that would have defended him, instead giving the sand nin the benefit of the doubt as she coughs again into a hand. He feels a bit of pity for her now, but as if she senses it she looks up sharply, and though her eyes are clouded with sickness she still fights past them to focus her sight on the shadow nin.

"Sorry," Temari says softly, sincerely, and Shikamaru swears he can hear his heart thump in his ears as the tanner shinobi blushes before reclining back into her bed. Her eyes close and he pushes stray locks of hair off her face, her skin is tinged with sweat but he doesn't mind, and he pulls the blankets to properly cover her shoulders.

"I'll make you something to eat," he says softly. She makes a small noise of assertion. "And I'm getting you water." She nods. "Keep the covers on." She sounds a little grumpier now, only humming in response. "I can also get you a wet towel," he says with a grin. She makes the same sound again, now disgruntled. "And take one of the vitamins anyway, it won't hur-"

"_Just go already,_" Temari growls with sudden conviction, the konoha native chuckling as he ducks to avoid the flying groceries that otherwise would have hit him dead in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy 4th of July! I'm releasing a couple of new chapters to things today as I'm moving tomorrow, so I don't know what my internet situation will be just yet. For this fic, this is something that I have that isn't long and angsty, but hopefully this will tide you over before I get back to updating!_

_This one came from a one sentence/word prompt thing. This is purely a drabble; short and sweet. _

_I had originally written it in Shika's perspective before I axed that and switched to Temari's. It might be a bit confusing. _

_This one is older - one of the few things I've written since I got back into the swing of things. It might come off that way, too. _

_Enjoy!_

.::[::]::.

**[74 - **_are you challenging_ me?**]**

Long inhale in, even longer exhale out. "Why do you keep doing this?" he drawled. His eyes opened, squinting slightly in the harsh morning light. He sighed and shrugged the closed fan away from his neck – a feat in itself, Temari noted, seeing as the fan was easily as tall as his chest.

"I'm not going to stop until you accept, Nara," was her scathing reply. She could see his lip curl as the usual annoyance began to sink into not only his posture, but in his voice.

"But you're not gonna win," he tried to reason. Temari laughed mockingly. He didn't even bother sitting up, he merely closed his eyes again. She vaguely resisted the temptation to squash his face with her weapon, but instead shrugged and prodded the side of his neck.

"How would I know? We haven't fought –"

"Except for the one time I won," he cut in, to her annoyance.

"- Since the _chuunin exams_," her teal eyes glinted as she chose her words carefully. The sun caught her blonde locks, extending down to her wicked grin as she tapped the edge of her fan against his neck. He grumbled in response. "And I'm _sure _I can kick your ass this time."

"You've said that before," Shikamaru said lazily. She couldn't help the hiss that escaped her teeth but he merely rolled away from her, sitting up before locking eyes with her. She felt as if her gaze had been captured by his own, steady stare, but that didn't mean the flow of swears and utters of challenges was stopped at all. Her mind flew to ways he could motivate him to fight – he wasn't easy to move.

Temari knew her words were falling onto deaf ears but she suddenly froze when she felt a strange coldness draining her of her body heat. When she looked down, she cursed as she noticed black shadowy tendrils crawling its way up her torso. "You sure can kick my ass, but you also fall for the same tricks twice," said the infuriatingly lazy voice, though it was edged with mischief and a little amusement.

Constricted, she shot him her best death-glare. "Shut up Nara, you haven't won yet."

He smirked as a response before he swiftly pressed his lips against her. At the contact she felt herself fall limp despite her better judgement, and as he pulled away, she found her usual insults caught in her throat.

"Checkmate," he whispered, his breath feathering against her lips. She couldn't help the flush that flew up to her cheeks, nor the curse that escaped her lips yet again as she found herself restricted and unable to move.

"Shikamaru, _let me go_!"

He merely walked away, throwing a hand up in a wave. He turned around and smirked. "Don't bother trying to challenge me again – you know I'll win.

Besides, don't you only call me Shikamaru in-"

Her abrupt and horrified scream of _"Shut UP!" _ was more than enough to cover the rest of his sentence.


	5. Chapter 5

_Trying my hand at conveying new emotions. The two of them will see more familiar than usual, but they both don't notice it. Ghosts of their dreams, I suppose. _

_This also kinda came out angsty. Whoops._

_Also enjoy Shikamaru's unresolved sexual tension. I will probably write more fics like this on a later date._

.::[::]::.

[When Shika wakes up and the first person he sees is Temari. They pester each other for being weak and they tend the other's injuries. Slowly the truth of Shika's dream comes out.]

He groggily opens his eyes. The lids stick together as if he had been in a long, deep sleep. He might as well have been, he thinks, for he doesn't really remember why he's in the middle of a torn battlefield, lying on a mat, nor why his head is throbbing, when it feels like he had lived out an eternity.

The world seems blurry, unfocused; he wearily raises hands – hands that when he last looked at them, were beginning to wrinkle with age, but are now considerably softer and belonged to a seventeen year old. He rubs his eyes with the back of his knuckles. His jaw cracks into a yawn as he stretches, sore muscles aching as he groans both in pain and in satisfaction.

He slowly, finally, opened his eyes and, with a sharp inhale, focuses on the environment around him.

The first person he sees is her.

She's still on the mat by him, her hair pulled into the four pigtails he had almost forgotten about. He was used to seeing her hair _down_, something she'd eventually grow out of. She was smaller than he remembered; slighter, too. And she was propping herself up with her arms, but otherwise she looked just as tired as he did.

Who knows how long they were stuck in that dream?

He goes to get up but his muscles scream in protest, as if he had forgotten how to use them. Instead he sits hesitantly, trying to soothe feeling back into them. Instead he inspects what he's wearing and grimaces – they had changed him out of his uniform and into clean jacket. He ignores this and instead drags his head back up. He sees hers lift slowly, and he doesn't realize he's holding in a breath until her chin tilts up.

Their eye contact is electrifying.

It was like he had never seen teal before.

And he might as well hadn't, he thinks, because those eyes in his dream held nothing, _nothing_, to the beautiful colours hers were. Even though they're twisted in confusion, they shine like he had never seen before – or rather, they always _did_ have a shine, just one he couldn't notice or appreciate.

They both don't seem content to break the contact.

So instead he pushes his fingers through his hair and he sighs. They aren't that far apart from each other, in fact perhaps crawling distance from each other. He pushes himself towards her, something about this disposition embarrassing to him but he ignores it, and ends up beside her.

He fights the urge to stroke her cheek.

She looks up at him, her eyes a little guarded but somehow warm, her lips soft and parted in momentary confusion before she breaks into a small smile. "S-Shikamaru," she says quietly, before she coughs once, her tanned cheeks dusting red as she tries to prevent her voice from cracking. He can't help but to find it endearing, put then he frowns because he realizes that this familiarity, while not artificial, is only _truly _spurred on by his dreams.

He wants to do with her what he had been doing to her in his dreams – to hold her hand, cup her cheek – but as she swallows and tries to regain control of her voice, he does the same with his feelings. _This is going to be more troublesome than I thought_, he thinks. She sits up groggily, stretching each leg delicately, before she looks at him again and cracks her neck. "I've never felt this stiff before."

"I know how you feel," he responds. As it is, words are hard to find for him, something that he thought he'd since resolved. It was like he was back to being a bumbling thirteen year old, unsure of what to say in case he put her off.

She grins. "You're not about to cry, are you?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, not really."

He doesn't miss when her eyes soften. She rolls her weight forward and somehow manages to partially get up. He's somewhat astounded because his muscles are_ still_ groaning, but of course, Temari's definitely more athletically fit than he is, and soon she's behind him, giving his shoulder a quick chop.

"You're remarkable," he grumbles as he rubs the pained area with a frown. She's chuckling behind him but he misses her blush. "It's no wonder such a terrifying kunoichi can move so quickly while the rest of us are even trying to will the power to move our legs."

The voice she uses is rough, rougher than the Temari in his dream but is otherwise still somehow bracing. "Not all of us are weaklings."

He allows a scoff to pass through his lips as she kneels down. "I thought we were over this," he says as her fingers begin to skim along his neck. He shivers at the touch and it feels stupidly _familiar_. He's not sure if it's because she's going through the same as he is, the strange ghostly feeling of intimacy left from his dream, but whatever the reason it relaxes him. "I'm not fourteen anymore."

"Thank God for that," she whispers, so quiet he almost misses it but she suddenly pauses as her fingers dance along the base of his neck. Her tone is darker, as if steeled, as she says with more conviction, "I never did get a chance to make sure you were okay when you-"

Her voice trails off.

But for some reason he's able to pick up on the nuance, and he knows it's not because of his intellect. It seriously feels like he had known her for a lifetime: his brain must've been always picking up on her signals and triggers because her genjutsu-self had them narrowed to a tee. He can't help but to grin. "Who's the weak one now?"

"Shut up," she rebuts, but there is frustration in her tone. There is a pause and she begins to ease his jacket off – one he doesn't remember putting on but after they all got rescued from the immediate battlefield once they were released from the genjutsu, the immediate medical team must've changed everyone's clothes. He lets the fabric slide off the shoulder and he feels her breath feather against the contours of his skin. "I… I saw you go down. I thought you died." Her voice catches in her throat and she swallows. She comes across louder now, less hesitant. "But you're still here. I thought I had lost someone else who's close to me."

He didn't miss her words but he doesn't really acknowledge it – perhaps this strange familiarity he felt towards her really _was_ messing with his mind – but the rest of his phrase affects him all the same. "I…" he trails off, unsure.

When Asuma had first passed, he had at first felt numb. It took coaxing from his father for him to come to terms with how he truly felt.

But now his dad was gone too.

There were no tears, _yet_. But as she begins to rub his back (again with that strange sense of familiarity and comfort), he can feel a lump in his throat. He feels it starting but he fiercely tries to swallow it down, trying to instead focus his thoughts on the way his body reacted to every single feathered touch; every single sensation she left along his spine.

"I've been lucky," she whispers, her breath on his neck now. Her voice is soft, soothing, and he remembers that primarily before being a shinobi, she was a sister and in a way, surrogate mother. "I lost them when I was young. And there has been relative peace – some scares, sure – but peace. And it's thanks to you guys from Konoha." Her voice truly was soothing, when she wasn't mouthing off someone. And for when it felt like he had spent _years_ just listening to her voice, he feels emotional. Maybe it's because he knows the _comfort_ of it all was a fabrication (or perhaps, less of a fabrication than he'd like to think), or maybe it's because _everything_ was catching up to him at last.

He feels a tear well up in his eye.

"So thanks," she murmurs. He feels the tear break away despite his attempts. Another one follows. He half waits for her to comment and he swears he can sense her mouth open to do so, but instead it close. She instead wraps her arms around his waist, carefully, almost hesitantly. It feels _right_, warm and comforting, as if his body had been craving what his mind was feeding him.

He holds her there.

"I still have you," he manages as his breaths start to come up short. She stiffens but he _knows_ she understood the weight of his words. She doesn't pull away, however. Questions are on both of their minds, but they had time. There is peace. Whilst it may not be the perfect eternity that had played out in his head, they have each other.

He doesn't keep track of how long they remain here, her arms around him, tears rolling silently down his cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

_This was super short because lazy, but it's cute and hopefully just something we can all fawn over. _

.::[::]::.

[Shikatema being super affectionate (for them) with each other when no one is around.]

His hand mindlessly played with her hair as she relaxed on his lap. Their conversation had lulled, instead the two of them enjoyed the mid-summer breeze. She turned a flower in her hands, her fingers caressing the petals, her breaths coming in low and relaxed. It was calming, seeing as these moments were often missed because she was either scolding someone or yelling at him.

He sighed at the thought.

"What?" She asked as she tilted her head up to catch his eye. He can't help but to think of her to be cute, with her lips parted as her eyes, normally edged with some kind of emotion (and not a good one), instead a mild teal as she wasn't teetering on extremes.

"Nothing," he replied as his hand returned to the blonde locks. They fall into silent contentment, he soon found himself brushing his fingers into her hair, smoothing what was recently tied in ponytails back down to their natural state.

She sighed and closed her eyes, setting the flower off to the side as one hand reached up to his face. He allowed her palm to cup his cheek. Her fingers traced his jaw and ran up his chin before resting on his lips. He can't help the smile that breaks on his lips as she smiled too.

He mindlessly tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her face and she shifted underneath him, propping herself up with her chest. Her fingers caught his chin and pulled him forward, downward.

He can feel the heat from her lips, the magnetic pull begging for him to close the contact, but they both freeze when they hear a door slide open. "_Maaaaaaaam," _whines a voice, hiccuping lightly as it tried to swallow tears. "_Oniichan is bullying me again-" _

He winced as his wife rolled her weight on a particularly uncomfortable spot. She flashed him a brief, apologetic smile, before her eyes positively steeled with rage. He swore her hair rose and fire began to emit from her posture as she stomped past their toddler daughter.

"_Shika-!" _Her voice cut off when she slammed the screen door behind her. Their daughter blinked and instead ran up to her father, scrambling on his lap. He sighed and brushed his thumbs on her cheeks, wiping away the moisture. She nuzzled contentedly into his chest as he ran his fingers through her dark locks, beginning to pull them into braids.

_She is still such a troublesome woman. _He can hear her yelling, the words lost as they were drowned out, and he swore he could also hear hastened apologies. _But I guess I'm the one who married her._


	7. Chapter 7

_I've been itching to post this one, so I'm releasing this earlier than scheduled because I like to crush hearts._

_Alright guys, this is the first true angst that I've uploaded for Shikatema. _

_This is going to get heavy, really fast. _

_I apologize for possible inaccurate portrayals of addiction; I have never been addicted to any substance so I do not know the particular effects. I also likened Shikamaru's addiction more towards harder drugs, I presume._

_The formatting is key to this piece - I apologize if it turns you off at first. (It's kind of supposed to.)_

_Let me know what you think._

_\- muse _

.::[::]::.

[shikatema, trying to get shika to quit smoking]

He could feel her eyes on him, but he ignored her. Again.

He ignored the way she glared daggers into his back, especially when he turned around and leaned in to get his lighter going.

Her voice was cold, curt.

"I thought you had quit."

He ignored her.

She didn't take lightly to that. "That's not good for your health."

He got the flame going.

His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out the package slowly. Her hand caught his.

"I'm serious, Nara."

"Can you lay off," he grumbled, trying to shake her off him. Seriously, she was so damn _troublesome_, and even though he _thought _he had allowed generous amounts of finality to his tone, she didn't take the hint, because she snatched the package out of his hands.

"No, I can't." Her eyes are dark, the usual teal dulled down to a grey. He looked at her frame, one that he often desired, but this time it was different. Her stance was aggressive and for once, he felt like matching it. She held the package away, her lip curved into a frown.

He groaned. It was already too long from his last drag, his stomach prickling and that stupid _feeling_ beginning to snake the way up his esophagus. He held his hand out – patiently, in hopes of her responding – but she glared at the palm, glared at his arm, glared at _him_, as she held the package away with a bit of a sneer. "Stop this."

He drew a breath through his nose. It was beginning to _gnaw _at him, eating away at him. He felt familiar feelings beginning to claw its way into his brain; the anxiety, the nervousness, the guilt and strange _agitatedness _that he desperately wanted to quash. He focused to keep his voice from trembling, as he deadpanned, "This really isn't your business, Temari."

He doesn't bother registering the hurt that flashes in her eyes, nor the voice in his head that was telling him that she was right and hell, at least she cared, because Chouji said nothing when he'd pull up a smoke, though he'd exchange concerned looks with Ino. Concern – like he was a child who still needed looking after.

Who was he kidding? He still needed looking after. He couldn't save anyone, he couldn't stop his father from dying nor Asuma, he couldn't possibly shoulder the responsibilities of his clan whilst he could barely stop his mother from yelling at him. Except she, too, was in shock – he'd see her sit after dinners in silence, with no third voice chiming into their tense conversation.

He was helpless.

He was useless.

He _really _needed this smoke.

But the _bitch _was holding it an arms-length away. "I'm making it my business," she said, her tone somewhat snide yet, if he had cared to listen, concerned.

But he didn't listen.

"You don't have to." He held out his hand again.

She laughed humourlessly as, this time, she batted it away.

"You're not getting this."

"Are you a _kid_?"

"Are _you?_" she shot back testily before pocketing the cigarettes. His eyes followed them before they dragged back to her. She was angry, furious, heavy lines creased into her forehead as she drew herself up to full height. "You're going about this the wrong way, Shikamaru."

"Trying to use my first name to get to me?"

"_Listen to yourself!_" Her voice made him wince but the fire and the claws and the _anxiety_ was _tearing _at him. If she would just lay off, if she would just give him _one_, maybe, maybe he could calm the storm that was his heart and _maybe _they could discuss this like rational beings. But his body ached for more nicotine, more poison to soothe his demons away.

Yet her pocket bulged with the weight of his cigarettes.

"You're getting hooked for the wrong reasons," she murmured, her voice soft but it still felt like daggers in his ears. Her hand touched his shoulder and he nearly recoiled – he fought every instinct that screamed at him to jump back and attack, the antsy unease that had grown from a faint feeling to one that was threatening to overwhelm him. Her hand ran down his arm, leaving shivers and chills. "I think we should talk."

But he _didn't want to_.

He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to tell her how he wanted to cry, wail like a baby about losing his father, his mentor, being responsible for lives he couldn't even count on one hand. For the losses and the stress of leadership that had left him scarred, that kept him up at night and would feel like ants were crawling on his body. He didn't want to accept these feelings when he could wash it all away with a drag of a cigarette. He didn't want to talk it out like he needed therapy because he _didn't_, he just needed one. _One. _One and maybe when his mind was calm and no longer scratching hollowly on tattered walls, like the grating of nails against chalkboards, would he be able to talk.

But he would cry. He would cry and sob and scream over how it was so unfair for him, unfair for a seventeen year old to shoulder so much responsibility even though he signed up for it, and just because he was a genius didn't mean he could handle all of this. He didn't want Temari, of all fucking people, _Temari, _to be the one soothing him and telling him it's okay. He wanted his father. He wanted his father who had promised him that he'd pick up the pieces, except his father wasn't there and was _dead_. Who was going to pick up the pieces now? Who? Not his mother, who almost seemed lethargic which made _no fucking sense_ because she was _crazy_. Not Temari, who had already seen him cry once and who felt _pity_ for him – which wasn't what he wanted, he didn't want pity.

He wanted a cigarette.

He was ready to take it by force from her – his mind had already devised methods to get them from her. But the more he went without it the more his anxiety grabbed each idea, dragging it down into the pits of nothingness. He wanted to rip them from her, he wanted to kiss her and make her gasp so she'd lower her guard and he'd take them from her. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore – just the nicotine. But she held her stance, her hand still on his arm, his arm which felt ice cold and numb save for the soft pulses of her skin – contact he had longed for but now he loathed, because it wasn't the same.

Her eyes softened – fucking _softened_ – as she lifted her hand. "You don't need them."

"You don't understand," he tried, his voice cracking. He didn't even realize there were tears, rolling down his cheeks. He didn't even know why he was crying, perhaps it was the anxiety, the trauma. Maybe it was his father's last words echoing through his mind, a record on repeat as he felt nothing the first time he heard them, though Ino had teared beside him. Maybe it was the looping vision of Asuma, his face battered and blood oozing from his mouth, the light fading from his eyes as he felt the same nothingness. Perhaps it was the helplessness he wasn't allowed to feel during the war as he watched comrades he was in charge of fall, one by one, and he could do nothing but surge forward, ignoring the cries and throes of pain as he pushed forward.

Shinobi are tools.

He was a tool.

"Just. Give me. A damn. _Cigarette._"

The package hit him upside the head, Temari's eyes dancing with rage and frustration as she whipped the package at him. It fell into a sad heap onto the ground, label facing up, as the blonde glared.

"Fine. _Fine. _Have a damn cigarette. Push me away, you _dick. You asshole. _I'm trying to _help you_." He doesn't see her own frustrated tears through his own, her yelling hollow in his head as he bent down. She probably kicked him – he didn't really know – instead he emptily reached for the package that was by their feet. "You _always_ do this. You wait until your daddy comes to cheer you the _fuck_ up. Grow _up. He's not here anymore!"_ Her voice had risen to a yell, her voice pushing to cracking as her hands curled into a fist. He wanted her to stop. His head was pounding and he felt like he was being burned alive, the scratching in his brain distinctively louder and achingly painful as he turned the package over. He needed the nicotine. His body craved the nicotine. The demons clawed at him, climbing up his legs, his chest, his arms, his _neck,_ pushing onto his adam's apple as they reached, scratched, grasped for the release of the drug.

Her voice came through foggy, as if she were shouting from the top of a water tank, muffled by her own frustration.

"I'm trying to help you, but you clearly have no interest."

...

He didn't know how long he remained there, fingers fumbling with the package. But by the time he had regained some form of his senses, she was gone.

Finally.

He could have a smoke.

He shook the package and one, thin rod shimmied to the opening. He pulled it out, turning it slowly in his hand.

He tried to light it. He really did.

But he couldn't stop the tears from his eyes, nor the sobs that broke past his lips as the cigarette fell limply onto the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

_Something lighthearted to balance what I gave you guys last time. _

_To clarify, the line of dialogue in my prompt was what I used as the conversation starter._

_Temari-centric because there isn't enough Shikatema from her perspective. _

_enjoy!_

.::[::]::.

[I'd really to see your take on Shikamaru's reaction to hearing about Daimaru. Like maybe dryly telling Temari "So. I heard a zombie confessed to you." or something like that XD]

She seriously couldn't believe they were having this conversation.

Would he hate her if she smacked him out of the air with her fan?

Because as they were travelling from locations A to B, it wasn't even the question he asked that caught her offguard. It was his _tone. _As she pushed off from one tree to the next (she still wasn't the best at this, at least not as good as Konoha nin), the stupid pineapple head was steadily keeping pace with her. Normally she wouldn't care _too _much but she knew he was doing it on purpose – he can and _has _gone far ahead of her. His voice wasn't even really imploring, not quite teasing, just dry, like his fucking sense of humour.

Humour at the expense of others, she thought furiously, as words and sentences came to her head like a twist of a faucet but none seemed quite adequate enough for her to respond with. She focused on the rhythmic _tak_ as she gathered her strength into her haunches, springing forward before she absorbed too much impact.

_Tak._

She instead tried to swallow the bile (and embarrassment) that was beginning to make its way into her thoughts. She seriously was beginning to wonder about his tone – calculatingly light. Or maybe she was overthinking. _Ugh_. Who _told _him? Matsuri?

_I'm gonna flay her_, she thought with venom, trying to ignore the (snide? She didn't care, he was _dead anyway)_ look he gave her. She turned her eyes forward, nearly missing the next branch that was supposed to be her target.

_Tak._

He was being patient, but a _stupid_ kind of patient, as if he was baiting her out. Correction: he _was_ baiting her.

He also probably knew that she couldn't turn it down.

As usual, he was right.

"Ugh, can you stop _staring _at me like that?" she growled, putting a bit too much force into her next stride as the wood splintered underneath her. She didn't dare look but she could _sense_ that fucking smirk on his face, though he tried to pass it off as disinterested riling she could also feel he was genuinely interested. She felt heat prickling her spine as she fought between embarrassment for both _that _situation and the fact he was even asking about it. She didn't ever expect Nara, of all people, to be imploring like this. It was just so tiresome – and he called _her_ troublesome?

It only took five more seconds of frustration before she bit back a growl, which came out more as a loud, exasperated sigh. "Matsuri?"

"Yukata."

"Bitch," she seethed, though she could see a patient, of not, somewhat amused, smile spread on his lips. She ignored this, however, putting all her energy one more jump, praying that this stride pushed her ahead of the stupid Konoha nin.

To her frustration, though, he kept easy pace beside her. His tone was still calculating indifferent, and infuriatingly so. "And?"

_Tak._

"Can't you let this one go?"

_Tak. _

"I _could_."

_Tak._

For once, she wished he would just resume being the lazy ass that she knew him as. He seemed unusually interested and it kind of _bothered_ her. She swallowed back a blush that was fighting its way to her face, especially as she could tell that, though he was aloof, his eyes were curiously trained onto her. She sighed. When she opened her mouth, she couldn't help the words that tumbled forward. "Look, it was an old friend. Yes, he's dead. And I turned him down faster than I could blink."

_Tak._

He seemed satisfied with that because he suddenly lost interest, instead flying in step beside her. With each bound, she couldn't help but to wonder what had spurred that on – it wasn't often, or ever, really, that he would be so forward with it. Maybe he was just trying to piss her off. (That happened a lot, especially recently.)

So it was her turn to have fun now.

"Why do you care so much?" her eyes narrowed and she could almost stop the next phrase from spilling out of her mouth. _Almost. _"Were you feeling threatened, crybaby?"

_Tak._

She could distinctively hear a '_Tch_' as the Konoha-nin suddenly bounded past her, leaving him behind. She blinked, watching his back get smaller and smaller, and she couldn't help her own smirk from spreading on her lips. _He's like an open book._

He was quickly gaining speed and she rolled her eyes. As he tried to get away she couldn't help but call out: "Aren't you going to call me troublesome?"

His lack of a response was enough to amuse her for the rest of their trip.


	9. Chapter 9

_Been a while since i've updated._

_I've written more stuff but I've been busy with my two BANGs and summer school. Sorry!_

_Light-hearted comedy this time around. Poor Shikamaru._

.::[::]::.

[shikatema fic prompt! Temari and Yoshino meet. Shikamaru is absolutely terrified.]

He tried to stop her. He really did. But the crazy woman merely pushed aside his restricting arm, dodged around him as he lunged forward in a last ditch attempt to physically restrain her, and instead opened the screen door with such a ferocity that we winced, and then winced again as her heard his mother's shout of _Who's there?!_ echoing throughout the Nara estate.

This was going to be hell.

He was going to die.

He, Shikamaru Nara, was going to _die. _

Granted it's not like he hadn't talked about Temari before; she had all but pried information out of him during dinners about his escort. He thought he made it very clear that she was a _mission. _But then again, his mother was insane: his protests, for all he knew, fell onto deaf ears as she got it in her head that she was something else.

Why, oh why did he have to mention her to Temari?

Because when the blonde replied with a terrifyingly-similar screech of greeting, he knew was in for a ride.

One he'd most likely not enjoy.

At all.

He saw her black hair first as his mother rushed towards the source of the sound, before the woman skidded into their door step with a beaming smile on her face. Her eyes widened as her dark brown eyes raked over the Suna-nin's frame, her tanned skin and rather voluptuous body a rarer sight within the Land of Fire. Shikamaru stared, a little concerned over what might come out of his mother's mouth – knowing her track record, she'd probably say something to offend the sand-nin and all hopes of a peaceful dinner would be thrown out the window.

However, in hindsight, perhaps he would rather have an insult than whatever the hell it was that came out of her mouth.

"Temari-san, right?" He couldn't help but to flinch as his mother immediately clasped her hands on the kunoichi's shoulders in a strangely over familiar manner. The look in said kunoichi's eyes seemed to reflect his own sentiments. "I've heard so much about you from my son – _Shikamaru,_" she barked, the shadow-nin jumping as her tone whiplashed from warm and welcoming to icily cold, "put away our guest's shoes and get some tea going, why don't you?"

He sighed in defeat, knowing there was no way to win against his mother. The blonde shot him a look, no longer confused but more _amused_, her eyes twinkling with laughter as her lips curved into a smirk before the dark-haired mother of his lead her further into the estate. _They're gonna have a field day,_ he thought with exasperation as he arranged Temari's shoes neatly along the edge of the ledge of the Tatami. _I might as well kiss any dignity I had goodbye. _

The two were already in the kitchen, his mother engaging the blonde in conversation, words fading into background noise to him as he tried to make his appearance as minimal as possible. He shuffled over to the kettle and turned it on, the water already inside sloshing as he pulled out some cups to make the tea in.

"I wasn't aware he talked about me that much."

He froze.

_God damn it,_ he mulled as he threw tea bags into the mugs. He could hear both of their laughter – high pitched and so freaking _girly _that it made his blood curl. Hell, he didn't even know Temari _could _be girly – all he ever got out of her was a tongue-lashing and sharp, witty humour that was often at his expense.

He set down the cups before the two most fearsome women in his life and tried his best to escape before too much damage was done. But a scary, iron grip caught his hastily retreating forearm and if it weren't due to Yoshino being closer he probably would not have been able to tell who's hand it was. "Where do you think you're going, young man?" Her voice had suddenly drained of all earlier humour (and kindness, which admittedly, was still kind of scary to even entertain the possibility of his mother possessing sucha quality) and instead much darker and commanding.

He gulped. "Nowhere."

His mother flashes him a humourless smile as he sat down beside the blonde, who was chuckling not-at-all-inconspicuously into the back of her hand, not even bothering to disguise it as a fit of coughs. "I should try that on him sometime," she commented, humour colouring her tone as she lightly knocked her knee against his. He wasn't at all amused.

He really, _really, _didn't want to be sitting here right now.

His mother flashed Temari another warm smile. "It works on all Nara men," she said nonchalantly, picking up the mug and taking a hearty sip. She put down her mug and gave a scarily-toothy grin. _That is a smile of a killer_, Shikamaru thought subconsciously as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "You should've seen his father when he tried to get away from me the first time."

Mortification was not a strong enough word to describe what he was feeling.

As their laughter pricked like needles into his spine, Temari turned and gave him a hearty pat on the back. "He knows he can't escape from me, crybaby."

He half wished his mother would at least rebut her for insulting her son.

But instead she was nodding sagely.

He sunk himself further into his seat, trying to swallow the redness that must've begun to creep onto his cheeks.

"I'm surprised he hadn't brought you home sooner," his mother continued conversationally. The blonde only grinned in response.

"He said didn't really want us two together in the same room."

Mortification _definitely _was too light of a word as his mother's eyes steeled at her words, her eyebrow twitching. _Why would you say that, _he mouthed to the Sand kunoichi, who definitely registered the words but merely ignored him. "He said he could only handle one of us, or something."

"_Hah_, if neither of my boys had anyone to push them I swear they'd just be lying around all da-"

"_Troublesome,_" He couldn't help but to snarl. He needed to get out of here, and fast. Temari was obviously enjoying herself, and, what was arguably worse, so was his mother. He ignored Temari's sound of protest and barely managed to dodge his mother's iron grip, though her glare and sharp _"Shikamaru!" _not lost on his senses.

He half expected his mother to come stomping after him, give him a loud scolding in front of the Sand kunoichi (though she would probably find it amusing) and then proceed to berate him on how to be a good boyfriend – as if his father ever was.

He knew who wore the pants in _their _relationship.

But instead, he didn't hear the thundering footsteps of his approaching doom.

What she next said, although partially obscured by the screen barrier, was much worse.

"He'll be back, unless he wants to starve tonight."

Realistically, he'd actually much rather go with the second option.


	10. Chapter 10

_I forgot where I left off when uploading these. I have a lot to catch up to. _

_Humour._

..::[::]::..

_[Shikatema prompt: Temari is invited to her first girls night by Ino, which prompts the boys to get a table near them to spy (see Shippuden ep.232). Then, when things get too detailed about their relationship, an embarrassed Shikamaru drags Temari home. ]_

She really didn't know why she was here.

But there was something endearing in the way Ino had knocked on her door at six am that morning (because something about her guide wouldn't be awake at the time – she didn't blame the Konoha-nin; she was entirely right) and had invited her to their girls-night-out. She wasn't entirely sure what the whole hush hush was about – but maybe it was more of a cultural difference, seeing as Ino was at least treated like a girl. (There was more to say about Suna politics but she kept most of it to herself.)

When she found herself seated in the barbeque restaurant, she was soon so enveloped by such _girlish chatter _that she sunk further into her seat and picked at one of the meats grilling in front of her. She didn't really do well with these crowds – after all, raising two brothers only furthered her tomboy personality along with her lack of female friends. But she had to give it to the girls – they weren't exactly girly (they might have been three or four years ago, not so much now) but they knew how to keep up idle conversation.

"-and remember during the chuunin exams, when you guys faced each other?"

"Yeah. I seriously hated you back then."

"_Details._ What I want to talk about is another match that was interesting, hmm, _Temari?_"

She choked on her water.

She should've known the blonde had some kind of ulterior motive.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said evasively, closing her eyes and instead focusing on downing another mouthful of water _without _choking this time. When reached over to flip the meat, she noted the two girls exchanging a pointed look (even though Hyuuga shrunk into her seat and pigtailed buns-girl aggressively stabbed another piece of pork into her chopsticks) before they turned back to her.

"You know what we're talking about," prompted Ino, "you and Shikamaru."

Temari took a slow breath, disguising her exhale into her glass, though it betrayed her as the insides fogged. "What do you want to know?" she asked humourlessly, though the Konoha-nin did _not _pick up on her sour tone and instead launched in enthusiastically.

"Idunno, just asking about how you two are doing, and all," she replied, her voice innocent but at the same time, scarily testy, as if she had done these interrogations before.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know what to tell you," she responded indignantly, trying to make sure her cheeks didn't turn red. Luckily they hadn't served her alcohol – that would definitely had gotten her talking – instead she was just able to maintain her dignity, raising her head and continuing, "he's my guide, that's all there is to it."

The looks the girls exchanged were eerily accusatory, snide, and even amused. "Are you sure," asked the blonde, her voice almost shrill with excitement, "Shikamaru doesn't wake up for anyone – not even training-"

But before Temari could shoot back a biting retort, the table next to them squeaked. They had their privacy curtain drawn for obvious reasons, but she could still hear snickers from the other side, along with a hassled and familiar sigh.

She smirked.

He just couldn't stay away, as usual.

Temari wasn't one to reveal her love life to other people, let alone other Konoha women who were familiar with the man she was intimate with. Then again, opportunities like these rarely presented themselves, and who was she not to take advantage of them? She contemplated how much she should reveal, if only to punish him for daring to eavesdrop on her little outing. Though she hardly thought it was to his own volition – he was probably in the same boat as hers, dragged out by another loud and enthusiastic blond.

And though the girl's voices dropped considerably (the pink-haired medic nin looking _particularly _ticked off when she put two and two together), Temari said, this time a little louder, "I guess you're right. I don't know why he arrives as early as I do to some of our meetings."

From the outside, absolute silence. A couple of sniggers broke out before they were cut off abruptly.

Ino leaned in. "And?"

"And nothing," she said, louder still, "he makes it so we act like we don't acknowledge each other's existence." She watched the blonde's face fall before she smirked, threw back her head, and called, "But when we get back to my place, oh boy, lemme tell ya, he is _great in be-_" Their privacy curtain all but ripped from its hinges as the dark-haired shadow nin shoved the innocent white fabric to the side, his cheeks flaming but his eyes narrowed.

"Shika-" Ino's voice cut out as one hand swiftly covered hers, the other grabbing Temari by the collar and pulling her off the seat.

"Not cool," he hissed, his breath tickling her ear.

Thank _God _they didn't give her alcohol, or even that would have probably reduced her to a bumbling mess.

"I thought I'd fill in the gaps since you obviously left Ino out of the loop," she replied slyly, to which he sighed.

"_Troublesome," _he hissed, though he snagged his fingers into her fabric and began to drag her away.

"I'll fill you in next time," she called cheerfully to Ino, who could only watch, dumbfounded, as she let the man drag her off their booth and out of the restaurant.


	11. Chapter 11

[Stop talking like you can marry me whenever you feel like it.]

She shifted a little beside him, her hair brushing his cheek as she swatted restlessly at a fly that buzzed just as lazily as he felt. He was used to the quiet buzzing, but evidently in the desert, it was something she had to adjust to. The buzzing suddenly silenced as she all but snatched the innocent insect out of the sky, crushing it in her fist.

She was a terrifying woman indeed.

"You were saying?" she said almost innocently as she wiped her palm against the grass. Shikamaru sighed – although Temari eventually started joining him on cloud-watching sessions, she was as restless as ever. It was like she didn't know that the objective was to _sit_ and _relax_. Even though she lay opposite of him, her head by his but otherwise her body sticking in the other direction, her (jerky and guarded) movements exactly the opposite of soothing.

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing," he muttered. His gaze followed another cloud drifting lazily by, though he heard her shifting once more. Impatience spiked along his spine – can't the woman just sit still – and he blinked reflexively as her blonde hair scratched his cheek.

"You were saying something." Her voice was testy, curt, not at all soothing or calming. It completely broke the mood of the scene, though it wasn't exactly jarring or unwelcome – just _different – _a different he was getting used to. "Don't let me stop you."

He snorted, and even she chuckled too. "I _was _saying what I want out of life."

"Do go on."

Her voice was light, teasing, closer to his ear than he expected, but out of his peripheral he could see that she had turned her head towards his.

Shikamaru shifted once more, tucking a forearm underneath his head and another resting lightly on his stomach. "Well, after I become the Hokage's advisor-"

She erupted into a derisive snort – a rough, brash sound that wasn't at all cute but yet somehow _womanly_. She coughed once and swallowed. "-sorry," she said, not quite sounding sorry at all,

He carried on anyway, "- I would settle down with a girl." His mind said the next words for him – that is, _a regular girl, not too ugly or too pretty _– but somehow they stuck to his tongue, refusing to escape his lips. He didn't dwell on it too hard (he already suspected he knew why he didn't want to say them, anyway) and launched on. "Get married, have two children."

"Sounds like the life," Temari sighed, though her voice was muffled as she turned her head back upright, her hair scratching against the dirt and grass. His fingers drummed his abdomen, another cloud lazily drifting by. She suddenly swallowed and her voice sharpened. "But idealistic, isn't it?" He felt wind brush by his ear. Surprise caused him to sit up, the Sand shinobi mirroring his movements, and they stared at each other.

"You're a shinobi, Shikamaru. You don't know if you'll even come back tomorrow."

"Aren't you pragmatic," he muttered, and though her eyes narrowed momentarily, she flopped back down, the moment passing.

"I'm just saying," she said, her voice still brash but he could tell she was trying to be bracing. He lowered himself back down, their black melting into blonde as their cheeks brushed.

They fell into a comfortable silence, his mind still buzzing, though the soft breeze had lulled the two. Just as he felt his eyes droop, he felt slim yet calloused fingers tangle into his hair. It was comforting - an offer of apology.

"Two children, one girl, one boy. Preferably the girl is born first. I'd retire…" his voice dropped though his mind still raced, his vision blurring from focused to unfocused. "Spend the days with my wife… listening to her yell at people… mainly our son…" he yawned. "She'd be the scariest kunoichi, even though she's not even a Konoha native…"

But before his eyes fully shut, he winced and growled in pain as the fingers in his hair suddenly tensed and pulled. "_Oy,_" her voice was cutting, almost a little bemused. His mind caught up to his voice as his head whipped towards her.

Their eyes met and he swore, for the umpteenth time, even _she _could hear his heart pound.

"Stop talking like you can marry me whenever you feel like it," Temari seethed, though the anger didn't reach her eyes. Whilst her voice was scathing, it was also slightly teasing. In his sleepy stupor, he felt his head swimming in that brilliant teal. But then she blinked and the contact was broken. "Seriously. Unlike you I don't want to settle down so fast."

"Ever the pragmatist," he teased as his vision blurred once more. She was close, too close, his body still feeling tired as the enticement of sleep was almost too much to pass up. "I'm a dreamer, remember?"

She clicked her tongue and she rolled her eyes, though he almost missed the motion. She called him something but the specifics were lost to his sleepy ears, Fingers danced along his forearm, which, decidedly, was now his pillow, the movements soft and soothing along his skin.

Sure, he was a dreamer, but it was pretty much inevitable.

They were dating, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

[shikatema, he catches her sneaking one of his cigarettes. ]

The first give away was the smell of smoke, just a faint trace in the night sky.

The second was his cigarette holder, knocked on its side with one of the white rolls missing.

The third, and most obvious clue, was the absent, still slightly warm, spot beside him in his bed.

He sat up, letting the thicker sheets slide down his body and pool around his abdomen. It was _too _early to be up, so of course this was when she'd decide to disappear with one of his cigarettes. Groggily, he rolled to his side and pulled the drawer attached to the bedside table open. The silver lighter was absent. _Freaking troublesome woman, _he couldn't help but to think, his hand combing through knotted black hair as he pulled himself upright. He pulled his hair into a lazy ponytail and plucked one more cigarette from the holder.

He reluctantly slid his legs out of his bed, the coldness of the _tatami _mat unwelcome against his feet. Why did she have to be so anal about this? He sighed and pulled on the boxer briefs that laid discarded on the floor. His mouth cracked into a yawn before he could stop himself. Now that he was upright, there was _definitely _a trace of smoke in the air.

Crazy woman.

Now that his eyes had readjusted, he could make out the stillness of the night. His normally tanned walls seemed to be a dark blue, the covers of his sheets normally green only looked like a dark brown. He rubbed his eyes.

What an ungodly hour to be awake.

He stumbled forward, hand groping to feel for the screen door that separated his room from the patio. Cold steel under his palm, it slid open with one languid pull, the smell of the crisp autumn air filling his nostrils with every deep inhale.

There she was, her outline illuminated by the glow of moonlight. He could see her figure, slim but not offputtingly so, leaning against the wooden banister. He could see the curve of her back, the line that ran through and down to the tip of her lingerie. Her hair, normally held up, fell down her back in surprisingly straight layers. His fingers itched with the phantom feeling of the night before, when he had ran his hand through her tresses, surprisingly silkier than he had expected.

She turned her head, her lips parted as a cloud of smoke lazily blew out.

She was a goddess in her own right, he thought.

She didn't say a word as he approached her silently, the back of his finger tracing her shoulder blade. She ignored him as she raised the cigarette back to her lips, nor did he attempt to stop her, really. Instead, he let his finger follow the curve of her back, letting it linger for a moment around her lower back before he withdrew.

"You're not mad?" she asked. Her voice wasn't raised nor challenging, just a mere question in a tone that he had only recently started to get accustomed to.

"I wouldn't've been able to stop you, anyway," he breathed. He could feel her shiver as his hand cupped her biceps, the breath she let out lidded with something more than smoke. She pressed herself back, skin turned cold from the night sky pressing against his own in a satisfying manner. He dipped her head back onto his shoulder, her eyes closed in contentment. They stayed there a while, listening to the faint sounds of crickets in the lazy breeze, smelling the faint trail of smoke that rose languidly from the cigarette she grasped between two fingers.

He pushed his nose into her hair, inhaling the smell of his own bed, mixed with the lingering scent of flowers. "I was more freaked out that you weren't in bed," he admitted into the curve of her neck. He could feel the vibrations as she chuckled.

"Why, that I wouldn't be there to protect you?"

His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her even closer as she gasped, nearly dropping her stolen cigarette. He planted a kiss along her jawline, though she stubbornly turned her head away as soon as his lips left her skin to take another drag. As she blew the smoke away from them, he couldn't help but to admire the way the moon shone against her profile, highlighting her skin, her lips, her vibrant teal eyes that he to this day had not found anything more breathtaking.

She turned back to him, her lips twisted into a smirk as she stubbed out her cigarette against the ashtray that he'd just noticed was balancing on the railing. "Are we going back to bed?" she asked, her own hands caressing his as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

But he raised his own cigarette to his lips and extended his neck forward, his chin skimming against her soft shoulders. She gave him a reluctant look but he gave her a side-stare until she sighed. She let go of one of his hands, taking the silver lighter and flicking it open. He lit his cigarette in the small, dying flame it produced, using one palm to hold both her hands against her abdomen as he reached up and exhaled.

"You're lucky I love you," said his long-time girlfriend.

"Whatever you say," he responded as took another drag.


	13. Chapter 13

[Shikatema Prompt! Just after the war's ended, while everyone's recovering, Ino overhears Shikamaru's dream. Horribly embarrassing matchmaking ensues- from teasing to dropping hints to making Shikamaru and Temari share a medical tent.]

Late prompt fill is late

"So, why am I in this tent with you?"

He sighed.

Where does he begin?

Well, he could, theoretically, start with that earsplitting _squeal. _He knew Ino was a girl and was full of surprising and suspect sounds but he didn't anticipate the _caterwaul _that erupted from her mouth. _Girls _– he should have known Ino was listening in when he _thought _he was privately confiding with Choji about the details of his dream.

And yet as his voice was low (even for him) and he was trying to tell his best friend about how he was aware, apparently, so was the blonde as she had burst between them, grabbed his hands, and positively bounced up and down, saying she wanted to help.

He didn't _need_ help, he had sighed, but the words (as always) flew over her head as she shook his captive hand with such vigor that he felt as if his arm had somehow morphed into a noodle. "I got you, I got you," she had repeated, her voice slowly going from excited to sly, a change that had Shikamaru very, _very_ nervous.

So the blonde had tailed him all day even as he was checking in with the ninjas he was in charge of, like an unwanted shadow, loudly muttering nice things to do for her. Things like, "maybe you should check on her, she might appreciate that" to "you know, you should go visit _her _or something." He briefly contemplated setting the record straight, grabbing Ino by the shoulders, and just explaining how _none of those ideas would work_, but that was much too troublesome and, knowing the blonde, would do close to nothing to dissuade her.

And when her eyes lit up, he frowned as her lips curved into a cross between a smirk and grin as she clapped his hands together between hers (just the action already had him recoiling). She had patted him on the shoulders. "Go to the medical tent."

Here they were.

Temari's lip curled as she sat down on the prop-up bed tucked into the corner. "Seriously – my injuries aren't bad at all." Her arms folded over her chest (he tried to ignore the shifting of _other_) and her tongue clicked. "but the Konoha medical-nins all but shoved me in here."

"How peculiar," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. _God damn it Ino, _he thought rather viciously, _why do you like to do this with me…_

He sat down on the other bed, sighing again, shrugging off the flak jacket before discarding it on the middle of the floor. "We like to be thorough," he added as he steepled his fingers together, elbows resting on his knees. Temari's eyebrow raised but a chuckle escaped her lips, a low, rather harsh sound, not nearly as earpleasing as the other bouts of laughter he had heard from other girls in his village. And yet, whilst it wasn't the most pleasant of sounds, there was a roughness and toughness to it that touched him in ways any other laughter wouldn't have been able to.

_So this is what's like to be whipped_, he grimaced, though her chuckles died down and she cleared her throat, he couldn't help but to notice as she drew one leg over another, creamy thighs rubbing together as she sat up. "You've always been, ah, quite thorough, haven't you?"

Her voice - still sharp, still laced with suspicion – somehow seemed quieter, almost fond, as her lips softened into a smile. It was a smile he realized he was somewhat used to seeing nowadays, just the small upturn of his lips somehow satisfying and fulfilling. It was a smile just meant for him, or maybe he was monopolizing – overthinking, as he was prone to doing. But her blue eyes weren't steeled nor hard, just relaxed, as if she were at ease when she was around him. He hoped so, at least.

He smirked. "Always two steps ahead."

And then her stance shifted as the double-entendre wasn't lost to her: rather her eyelids fluttered and redness touched her cheeks for the briefest of seconds. His mind flew to the implications – what was _her _dream? Was it similar to his? Was he in her dream? What was going through her mind?

He felt that weird magnetic feeling again – where he was drawn to her, where he found himself leaning forward over his steepled fingers and he was about to roll onto his feet and sit beside her. In fact the only thing _stopping _him from doing that was his own conscience, kicked back into gear as it screamed at him to think – try to stop _acting _upon his urges and just be rational – something he never had a problem with.

It was that stupid, stupid dream.

But she was leaning forward too, the dusting of red still present in her face as her eyes clouded – clouded but seemed somewhat vulnerable as her walls fell in pieces around her. She seemed somewhat abashed, her stance still somewhat withheld as opposed to oppressive, and for those fleeting moments, he realized that – whilst Temari was a hardass – she was still a girl.

A girl who liked flowers, took care of her brothers, handled relations between their two nations with such superiority that he almost forgot about how much responsibility she had always shouldered.

But the fragile moment shattered as the curtain drew back with violence.

"Sooooo _Temari,_" was the horribly perky voice, the two of them jumping and straightening, Shikamaru trying to hide the sudden rush of heat that flew to his head. _Oh God. _The blonde burst into their tent, her overly familiar tone also apparent in her stance as she threw her a _very_ wide smile. "You know, my boy Shikamaru here a real romantic type-"

He groaned and buried his head into the nearby pillow.

But Temari's voice sharply reverted back to its scathing quality, any trace of fondness painfully banished from her tone as she replied testily, "Oh _really_?"

And then Ino began to yammer her head off, whatever she was saying he wasn't even _sure_ was true about him though he had to admit, it wasn't a _terrible _effort of "selling" him. Either way, he just wanted her to leave, and seeing Temari's face, he almost laughed as it was a mixture of fury, mortification, and annoyance.

"Okay Ino, you can stop now," he murmured.

"- long walks on the beach, that kind of guy –"

"I'm not one for that," Temari replied testily, the konoha-nin silencing nearly instantaneously. Now she had shifted forward, her eyes flashing dangerously as she palmed her weapon, resting against the bedframe. "In fact, I'm much more for the fiercely action kind of guy." As Ino sputtered, her eye caught his and there was something aloof and teasing about it – challenging, like the troublesome woman she was.

His teammate was by his side, him barely registering as she whispered: "I have flowers outside, the ones she like – I asked Kankuro – so you know, you can give them to her when you get a chance –"

"Point of interest, still here," Temari deadpanned as Shikamaru slapped a hand over the kunoichi's mouth. He spun the blonde around with ease before all but shoving the ninja out the door.

"I don't need help," he hissed, but Ino shrugged and gave him a knowing look. He groaned – she knew him too well – but he narrowed his eyes anyway. "Okay, maybe in that sense, but start moving." The blond shot him another look but she complied, marching away whilst positively seething.

He let out another breath, not a sigh but more of a groan, as he turned to go back into the tent. His eye suddenly caught a colourful explosion set off to the side – a bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers awaiting him. He grimaced – leave it to Ino to create the most intricate of bouquets – but as he stared, he noted the roses. Flowers, yes, but barbed and dangerous, but yet the most beautiful of them all; for they were different, unique, sly, full of life –

"_Get your ass back in here, Nara!" _

\- And ridiculously scary, he sighed, as he swallowed his quickly-retreating dignity. One might even say they (and she, by extension) were troublesome.


	14. Chapter 14

[prompt - ShikaTema - Temari stealing Shikamaru's clothes]

He sat up abruptly.

His head still throbbed from alcohol, his vision blurry in the morning light. He was still very much naked, memories of last night tangible but fuzzy. He couldn't remember the details exactly, just alcohol, clothes, and _her_.

If he knew any better, he'd have said it was a night of bad decisions.

But maybe, there were some benefits, he thought, as he turned to his side – but the space was empty. Again.

He didn't know why he always expected her to still be there. After all, she'd often grab her clothes in a haste and see herself up.

Early risers – he had no idea how they did it.

The blankets slid off his skin as he lowered his legs onto the ground. His head was hollow and for once, there was a nice silence in his brain, something of which he was unaccustomed. Rather, it was silence until he realized something was missing. Several somethings, to be exact, for the clothes that had been in a heap the night before were gone.

_Are you fucking serious. _

The next time he saw her, she was wearing a smirk along with his shirt. The bitch. And he tried to stalk past her without looking twice but she, too, ignored him as he brushed against her back, her still turned away as she chatted to her gal pals. He didn't know them all by their names, most of the time she came to the bar by herself.

He didn't know what was different about this time, but he ignored her. He ignored how their girlish conversation obviously changed to talk about him – not directly but they were questioning _her _and her clothes, and her sly remarks were followed by not-so-subtle digs to him in bed.

She had to seriously shut up sometimes.

He found his friends waving him over, sitting down with a beer in one hand a cigarette in the other. "You shouldn't do that," said the blonde critically, but he ignored her and their chittery conversation as he took a slow sip of his drink.

He didn't really know why he came.

But eventually she stalked over.

And then he had his answer.

She usually came around at that time – half an hour into their meet up and she wouldn't be able to stop herself from making some sly comments. As if all his friends didn't know he was sleeping with her. But now they even _welcomed _her, as if they had been friends since childhood like _he _was, as if they had been fucking each other for two months and haven't looked at someone else since.

His head throbbed.

Maybe it was three months.

But she was wearing his shirt and he saw his blonde friend raise an eyebrow, a question forming with her lilted voice. But the bitch merely deflected the inquiry, instead boasting about _something _that was beginning to piss him the hell off.

He took another sip.

They were _loud _and getting on his nerves. Giggling. Stupid jokes. More giggling. Hell, even his best friend was joining in.

He waited until he was done his beer, at least.

And with that last sip he slammed down the mug and grabbed her wrist. She didn't flinch though his friends had, and when he twisted her arm and dragged her outside, she didn't protest.

He crashed his lips on hers.

She returned the gesture with almost a child-like greediness.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist." Her voice vibrated along her neck, a light buzzing against his mouth as he sucked lightly on her skin.

"You're such a bitch," he murmured into her collarbone. She responded by wrapping her arms around him, pulling him in closer, a moan breaking through her control as his fingers slid under _his _shirt and began to work his way up.

"They looked better on me anyway," she whispered, though the rest of her word halted as he kissed her once more, his tongue licking her lower lip, and then exploring her mouth, as if it had never been there before.

He pulled away and looked at her. His shirt, too big on her, was slipping off her shoulders. Gasps of air blew past her lips, forming small clouds of breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her carefully composed bun was beginning to fall loose, strands of sandy blonde hair sticking to her face and falling in loose, unorganized curls. Her eyes – teal, deep, and lustful – were wide, almost triumphant, and her lips curled into a knowing smile.

She was so _hot. _

"But _you _look the best naked," he hissed, ignoring her half-laugh of contempt as he smashed his lips onto hers once more, a gasp of surprise melting into another pleasured moan. If his mind was still rational, he'd probably feel bad for the poor taxi driver who had to deliver them back at his apartment, that is, if the two of them were still breathing.

But as the clothes flew off and the moaning began, he realized there really was no rational part of his brain left.

After all, he made himself that stupid bargain that, if she stayed the night and was there when he woke up, he'd tell her he loved her.

Maybe tonight would be that night.


	15. Chapter 14 cont

_Continuation of the previous chapter._

[ShikaTema prompt- "Are we friends or something more?"]

He _had _to stop bargaining like this.

He knew, deep deep down, he was totally a coward. What should've been hidden behind a blur of alcohol was all too vivid in his brain. Though the deal he made himself _was _influenced by the booze, the love, the sex, the _passion _– all of that was real. He could remember everything: from the curve of her back, to her heavy moans in his ear, to the helpless words that's slipped through her lips between gasps and pants of pleasure.

And he was sure he wouldn't see her for another week, at least, before they fell back into bed like this.

But there she was, eyes closed, her normally serious (and sultry) face somehow soothed into one of tranquility. When she wasn't burning with passion and staring back at him in a vivid teal, she actually seemed calm and quiet. But he knew better – he always knew better, for she was anything _but_ quiet.

Both in personality, and in bed.

So there she dozed, defenseless, his blankets strewn across lithe shoulders but her sturdy frame, her blonde hair a fuzzy nest around her head. He guessed the straightening effect had long since worn out, her hair akin to straw than the smooth silkiness it had been last night. Though if he had his preference, he kind of preferred this: it was truer to her personality; not the misleading innocence her hair otherwise would've lead him to believe.

It was during those opportune moments, of course, when she decided to wake up.

And the first thing she did was swear.

"_Fuck_, I didn't mean to – _ahh._" She sat up abruptly, a yawn still teasing the corner of her lips as she stretched before falling limp. She shot him a glance, then to her clothes on the floor, then back to him. He waited patiently as the gears turned in her brain before she sighed. "Sorry – I should've, _shit._"

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as she blinked stupidly. "Try to sneak out early?"

"_Hah_," she muttered in response. She shrugged the blankets up higher (pity, they were beginning to slip and he wouldn't have minded seeing _those _again) and buried her nose into them. "I forgot to set my stupid alarm." She glanced at her clothes despairingly.

He eyed the discarded bra and panties that lay strewn on the floor, his shirt along those pieces of clothing and her shorts, truthfully, were nowhere to be found. He didn't miss the look of longing in her eyes. He truly was a little disappointed – when he first noticed she was still in his bed, he realized with a jolt what he'd promised himself he'd do. And then instantly regretted the stupid bargain he made with himself.

But then she was here – for the first time, in the daylight, when he could admire her. He could see the sun against her tanned skin, the natural colour of her lips and the way her cheeks were still somewhat rosy despite their normal hue. He could see the hint of muscle along her arms, the definition of her collarbones, the colour of teal in the sunlight that seemed to sparkle like the facet of diamonds.

He truly, irrevocably, was in love with her.

And he was fuckin' gonna have to tell her.

Unless she ran out of him first.

Truthfully, that was still a possibility in his head.

But then she shot him a sideways glance and he shrugged. "Fuck it," she moaned, and he couldn't help the thud in his chest as she threw herself back onto his bed, bed sheets and all.

He slid into place next to her.

His fingers struggled against his will, trying to itch their way to her lithe body, but he stopped himself short before he could. She merely kept her face under his tan sheets, though he could almost sense the frustration coming from her in waves. "You make it sound like you don't enjoy my company," he said quietly. He watched for her reaction – for any minor shift in the blanket that obscured his vision – but she only snorted from underneath the blankets.

"I don't enjoy _not getting a paycheck._"

"You work in the morning?"

She threw the blankets off her face, her eyes wide and incredulous. "You _don't_?" He shrugged. She groaned as the blankets went back onto her face. "Look," she said, her voice once again obscured by the blankets, "it's not that I enjoy… running out on you. I have stuff to do."

He narrowed his eyes. "You could leave a note."

Silence.

He couldn't help the snort of contempt that escaped his mouth. "You can't be serious-"

"Shut up, okay, no one can think as far ahead as you –" but he had erupted into a fit of laughter, and even as the blankets flew off their bodies he _still _couldn't choke back his snorts. It was only when she had pinned him down with a look that could cut into his very skin did he choke on his last guffaw and instead try to meet her fiery gaze. "You suck, Nara."

He shrugged. She couldn't hide her grin much longer either.

And then her lips were on his.

Unexpected round twos weren't anything he could say he had experience with. But he wasn't complaining.

She had collapsed beside him, head resting on his arm and her tanned complexion even redder than usual. He had never really realized just how _worked up_ she got when they fucked; actual _sunlight_ finally showed him just what effect he had on her. And that was flushed skin, lidded eyes, and a lot of sweat. He guessed that was a good thing.

She wasn't exactly asleep, nor was she exactly _cuddly_, but he liked the weight on his arm. Something about it felt right.

And their conversation was casual, pillow talk really, for whatever they had to say was said last night and now they were both at a loss as to what to do.

He took a deep breath.

Well, it was now or never.

He tested her name on his mouth – not because it was the first time he'd said it, but it _was _the first time he allowed the affection he felt for her caress her name. She turned to him receptively, her teal eyes all the more enrapturing now that he knew what he wanted to say.

His heart thudded in his chest.

"Are we friends?" Her lips, at first neutral, even curved into the slightest of smiles, slipped into a frown. He pressed on, "or are we something more?"

Temari shifted a little on his arm, before she turned outright and only treated his eyes to a view of the back of her head. A twinge of disappointment climbed up his stomach before she spoke. Her voice was quiet, a different kind of passion than one lidded with alcohol or sex, but instead rather serious, muted. "Well, I don't sleep around, or anything. If that's what you're saying." He could feel her stiffen, her arms mechanically drawing the covers back over her shoulders. He almost missed her next words, of which she mumbled directly into her blankets. "I don't have sex with people I dislike."

They laid like that for a few more moments, himself listening to the thudding of his heart as elation begun to sink in, the girl on his arm growing more and more uncharacteristically still.

He turned to her and pressed his face into her hair. It smelled faintly of flowers – something he never quite noticed before, a particularly girly aura he never associated her with. She was still sultry, sexy, exotic, even, but over the nights they had spent together, he realized she truly was kind and humble, while not being sarcastic or witty.

In the morning they spent together, he discovered that she could also be meek, even embarrassed.

Temari smelled like flowers.

He grinned into her hair. "I love you," he whispered, the words still somehow foreign and not seeming quite his own, coming from his mouth. But they felt entirely _right_, as if they had been sitting on his tongue for a while now, his brain already somehow used to the thought and the shape of the words before they had spilled from his lips.

She didn't say anything, to his disappointment, but when his fingers rather shyly brushed away the locks of blonde hair, he could see a faint dusting of red that had managed to make its way to the tips of her ears.

Temari, when embarrassed, turned red.

He couldn't help but find her endearing, though he teased her and stroked her cheek. She retaliated hotly, batting his hand away and accusing him of pulling a fast one. He grinned though she bristled like an angered cat, his fingers tangled into hers in way that he doubted would come loose anytime soon.

What else he would learn about her?

He had several, newfound mornings to find out.


	16. Chapter 16

_[Shikatema trapped together in some small enclosed space (maybe the elevator breaks or it's a mission or something, idk)]_

"I wouldn't keep pounding, if I were you."

Temari blew a sigh through gritted teeth, the sides of her fists throbbing as she lowered them to her sides. "And what, exactly, have you been doing?"

The shadow nin, just five paces away from where she stood, pushed his weight off the wall as he folded his arms. "Waiting, killing time – it's not going to open, no matter how hard you hit it."

Shikamaru was the genius here, as she had long known, and perhaps it didn't take someone with over two hundred IQ to realize that the doors weren't about to open. She whirled around. "You know, maybe if Konoha didn't have such shoddy electricity, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation right now."

Her words may have been scathing, but the younger ninja merely shrugged. "Don't blame the electricity. These things happen. Just chill and sit or something."

The shadow-nin raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she stalked over to him and slid to the ground with an exasperated sigh. She felt him join her, though she fought to keep her eyes forward. He shifted, settling, the fabric of his pants brushing against her leg. "So you have me on the floor," she said, filling the sudden silence. "Now what?"

Temari could feel his eyes on her, a burn on the entire right side of her face as she dared herself not to look over. His voice was low, closer to her ear than she expected. "Nothing. We do nothing."

That was perhaps the last answer she wanted, as she let out another groan and tilted her head back against the walls. She was used to hearing something – anything, perhaps the hum of electricity, the buzz of the light. But there was only nothing, save the quiet sounds of his breath and the pounds of her heart.

_Fuck. _

Temari didn't know how long she sat there, not daring to even look over to face him. Every so often she could feel him shifting beside her, just a minute twitch of his finger, perhaps a quirk in his elbow, and it wasn't until she squinted did she realize what he was doing.

Just a few inches away from them, she could see a shadow bouncing. It was strange, as if the blackness was liquid, forming and deforming in a circular shape, like a water droplet falling back into a lake. There was something mesmerizing in the rhythmic rippling, and she could've sworn she felt him shifting from a lazy slouch to an upright position, the shadows growing bigger and bigger until, all of the sudden, they stopped.

Temari stared.

"Why'd you stop? I was liking that."

Shikamaru made a noise of contempt before he collapsed, returning once more to the lazy slouch that made her eye twitch.

"Come on. You can at least _do _something in here," she complained. From her peripheral, she could see his mouth quirk into a smirk, though his voice remained carefully even as he let out a sigh. It was frustrating, to see him as he thought of a response, the way the ligaments of his neck would flex as he contemplated.

"Ah, but I don't want to drain my chakra."

"Are you _joking, _that literally takes _no effort_ –"

" – You know, not doing anything is doing something on its own-"

"Oh don't start with that bullcrap Nara, you know exactly what I mean –"

" – Actually, I'm pretty sure I don't –"

"_You're _the super genius you crybaby, you could at least _entertain_ me since you _are _my guide-"

And before Temari could blink, she felt a strangely familiar cooling sensation around her wrists and on her feet. "You missed a spot."

He said nothing, though when she turned her head, she could see a smirk on his lips. Her eyes having adjusted to the darkness, she could trace the outline of his neck, his jugular, the hint of his collarbone against his shirt.

It was as if he was pulling her, dragging her attention, grabbing her in his clutches and not letting go. As if he were using his shadows to keep her head in place, to keep her very heart locked in his stare. His eyes burned back into hers, the dark brown in them a blend of emotions, unreadable murky depths all the more mysterious to her. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what was running through his mind, whether or not she affected him nearly as much as he affected her.

She took a shaky breath.

"Wanna let me go?"

His lip twitched. "I'm not doing anything."

"Let me rephrase, let me go."

His eyes twinkled, as if asking _in what means_, but that only fueled her frustration. His face, his eyes, his _smirk_, how the hell was she supposed to be able to _function_ when every bit of him commanded her attention?

"Shikamaru _Nara, let me g-_"

He was much, much too close – his face just inches from her, and his lips a mere centimeters, but the slim fingers that covered her mouth the only barrier stopping her from closing the teasing gap between them. Her eyes ripped away from his, staring down his neck, to the small opening of his shirt that exposed his collarbone, the faint aroma of some kind of cologne filling her nostrils.

She tried to move, tried to do anything that didn't involve _grabbing him right there and then_, but he limbs were rendered useless as his warm palms replaced the cooling sensation at her wrists, a carefully placed knee pinning down her thighs.

"You're too loud," he whispered, his breath feathering against her cheek as she fought to the urge to roll her eyes back up to his.

She couldn't move.

She didn't want to admit how but she knew he was blushing, that his brave words were just that – words – and she could tell the Nara was staring at her, could see in the way his eyebrows furrowed that he, too, was fighting to keep his eyes on her face. She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, the way his ligaments rolled as he clenched his jaw and shifted, carefully, his hand still on her wrists and leaving a faint trace of sweat.

The other palm released her mouth, almost hesitant, testy – as if he only moved after he'd confirmed she wouldn't do something dangerous. She secretly didn't know _how _he figured; well, he was the genius but it didn't mean she wasn't tempted.

And then she felt his fingers skimming along the hem of her shirt, her breath hitching as it grabbed a fistful of fabric.

He was so, so, _so _unfair.

His head quirked and his lips hovered closer, as if daring her to react.

She gave in.


	17. Chapter 17

_With shikatema being canon, I've started a new drabble/oneshot series featuring them post epilogue. Find it through my profile: **4572 days later. **_

_That being said, this particular installment of windy is post 699, but not post 700. This series will still be updated with any canonverse shikatema that doesn't concern their lives after that. - remaining spoiler free for those who don't read the manga. _

_Thanks and as always, enjoy!_

_(the next installment will be angst, just fyi.)_

[I would like to see a little bit of a look into what you think will become of them in Naruto The Last, what with all the new designs being released]

She waited for him at the usual place: a bench a few minutes' walk away from the burial grounds, a large tree providing the perfect shade against the Midsummer Day. She said nothing as he collapsed into the chair beside her, his hand flicking a lighter idly as he stretched once. "Rough day," she said more than asked, as he did nothing but make sounds of contentment as he splayed his arms.

With one gratifying sigh, he dropped them and began to fish in his pocket. "Something like that. The kids are crazy, that's for sure."

She wrinkled her nose as he pulled a cigarette; he only stared back at her, almost challengingly, as one finger slipped against the trigger. After a few moments of silent conversation, she sighed and pried the lighter from his clutches. "Thanks," he murmured as she wordlessly flicked the silver, a small yet strong flame igniting almost instantaneously. She held it up; he leaned in with the cigarette perched between his lips. Their proximity was so close that she could almost taste his skin, but as soon as the acrid smoke began to float to her nose, she turned away pointedly as he chuckled lowly, plucking the cigarette from his lips and blowing languid puffs of smoke.

She frowned. "I still don't like it when you smoke."

He didn't bring up the argument that it only happened a few times a year – on particularly stressful days and the anniversary of his sensei's death. It also so happened that she made a point to visit when that day fell, and for the past five she'd came over.

After the first of five, she'd begun to sleep over.

After the third of five, she'd taken a space in his bed.

She wondered if they'd ever progress to the point where he'd stop insisting on taking the couch, instead.

He said nothing as he blew out another puff of smoke; she kept a respectful silence as he mulled, as she knew he often did, on these days. She didn't have to be in his mind to know what he was thinking, to live through the reminiscing that was painfully carved on his face as he lost himself to his memories.

And before long, he dropped the cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out under his boot, before letting another sigh flow from his lips. That was his cue – that he had left the world of memories and was reconnected; that he was no longer dwelling on his fifteen, sixteen year old self who'd sought revenge for his sensei.

He was no longer the avenger, but a peaceful man, a jonin leader, who stopped coming to visit her so she had to make the trip out instead.

"Ready?" It wasn't a question nor an invitation, for she had already leapt on her heels as soon as he'd finished his smoke. He only looked up at her, his eyes lazy and almost pleading, before he sighed and stood up, hands in his pockets.

She tossed him a mint.

With the smallest of friendly glares, he popped it in his mouth.

* * *

His students didn't bat an eye as she came in on their training, leaning against a tree a safe distance away from their training regimen. Not that Shikamaru did much to warrant that—though he was diligent, and certainly great at shaping his genin, she knew that it was only on _very _specific days did they do more than merely mastering their chakra control before going further. When she was in town, she'd _spice things up, _so to speak, and the first time she'd merely opened her fan in front of them, did the genin swoon and crowd her. Of course Shikamaru would be tasked with a female-heavy team, and that only meant they looked up to her even more than any other ninja rookie.

After that fiasco of a training session, the next time she had visited, they didn't approach her. Instead they had watched as _she _watched.

This time, one of the girls clamoured up to her when Shikamaru demanded a rest.

"Why do you come to Konoha, even though you're from Suna?"

The answer hung on her mind even after Shikamaru had caught her, giving the girl an affectionate bop on the head before he commanded her to join the rest of her team for a water break. "The girls giving you a hard time?"

She laughed. "No, just asked me a question."

"And?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she teased, though her mind reeled as he laughed and leaned against the tree, one palm out for support. She took the opportunity to slide down a crouching position. She suddenly felt fingers threading through her hair, pulling through in languid strokes before they got caught in a knot. Before she could manage a protest, he yanked his fingers, the tangle coming away forcefully as she yelped his name. "You _asshole_, stop _laughing –_"

She could vaguely see, from the corner of her eye, his female students giggling amongst themselves, Kurenai's kid only staring with a mild interest, as the shadow nin snorted and avoided her flailing fists.

* * *

After the day had wrapped up he had shooed off his genin team, instead ducking around the central parts of Konoha and retreating to his clan area. They headed straight to his house – a solitary one, within the Nara clan, but he no longer lived with his mother. He had originally tried to express some regret over the move, after all, he had to thank his Mother for the upbringing, but she suspected it more had to do with the free food and laundry. There were other perks to it, he called it his own space, she knew so otherwise.

His house was already a second home to her, her belongings scattered about and had been accumulating over the visits she'd made since he had moved. He closed the door behind him and he ducked into the bathroom to take a shower; she slipped off the extra vests and jackets and slipped into an obi that she had last left behind. It was neatly folded, to her surprise, the smell of detergent faint on her clothes.

She sat herself in one of the couches by his living room, listening as the water turned off with a squeak. He came from the shower several minutes later, a loose shirt already pulled over his head and wearing sleeping shorts. Her eyebrow raised as he approached.

"You know, you could always just share the bed," she said as she passed him, allowing one stray finger to linger at his shoulder, the palm of her hand hesitating to rest against the flesh. He only gave her a pointed look, to which she sighed and shrugged. "I wouldn't be offended."

"I know," he said lowly, his voice only lightly laced with need, but he shrugged his shoulder once, and her fingers fell limply to her side as he stepped around her with a quiet goodnight.

She made her way to his bedroom, alone. There was something weird about the notion, being enveloped in a room that just screamed _him_, from the minimalist décor to the smell of his blankets, sheets, and pillow as she settled herself in his bed.

And just like the nights she spent at his place, she tossed and turned, frustrated that, in spite of being so close to him, what she actually craved – his stare, his smile, his _presence –_ was the only thing she lacked.

A quiet cough caught her attention.

"On second thought... do you mind?"

She didn't have to sit up to know who it was.

She took one calming breath, trying to slow the stuttering flutter that had begun to hammer in her heart.

"Not at all."

She rolled to the side as the covers lifted, the warmth of his body already filling the cold space of the bed as he slid into the spot beside her. And as soon as he was settled she wondered how she'd managed those nights on her own, in a bed too big for just her.

She allowed one hand to trace the contour of his back, to revel in the feeling of the single layer of fabric that lay between her skin and his. She wanted nothing more but to plant kisses along his neck, down his body, and on his lips, but that time could wait. They had already progressed so far.

They had all eternity to play out the rest.


	18. Chapter 18

_[Some time after the end of the war Shikamaru and Temari are on a mission together or something, and Shikamaru gets badly hurt. Temari proceeds to tell him she'll be by his side as long as she can and says she'll move to Konoha to be with him.]_

"Shit-" he hissed, and the single syllable was enough to have her whirl on her heels.

Temari didn't know what was _wrong _with her. Ever since the war ended – since the cleanup, joint missions to rebuild their suddenly diminished nations – she'd grown all the more _aware_. There were probably hundreds of factors as to how this'd happened: from her strangely intrusive infinite tsukiyomi dream, to the looks she'd often catch him giving her, to the realization of feelings she thought she could bury – it all surmounted to this very moment, when she turned at his sharp inhale of breath.

But of course, Shikamaru was fine. If not a little dramatic, as he rubbed his foot. He'd managed to kick a rock, or _something_, but Temari found herself rolling her eyes. "You're such a baby," she tossed over her shoulder, the words coming easily off her tongue. Teasing was something relatively new in their palette of interactions – or at least, _fully realized, intentional teasing, _because if she were true to herself, she'd also start _kicking _herself for all the times they'd flirted and they'd (intentionally or not) passed it off as anything but. And she could hear a small noise of contempt come from his lips, one of annoyance, as he gingerly stepped around whatever had caused him the pain the first place.

When Lord Sixth and Gaara had assigned them on _rubble duty_, the two had exchanged rather bemused glances. And then they promptly looked away from each other. Sure, they worked well together, but she was a little _annoyed_. Temari didn't know why – but of all people, she didn't want to be stuck with him. Maybe it was because she didn't want to be forced to be with _him_, seeing as, for all purposes, her concentration would plummet to zero – and she'd be too aware of _him_.

Him, Shikamaru – as he muttered another curse.

He was useless in this department, anyway.

Thank god they were allowed to take a couple genin to aid in the cause.

Temari sighed and turned to one of said genin. "Step aside and, I don't know, toss some rocks around, okay? I've got this side." And before he could protest, she shooed him off. Shikamaru's gaze followed him, before he too stalked off, muttering something about being _troublesome _or the rather. Truthfully, she was used to such mutterings – in fact, she'd come to somewhat expect it. She wouldn't ever admit it, but part of her _listened _for him calling her troublesome – and there was something oddly comforting about being called, for all purposes, an insult.

The thought had her pink in the ears. She hated it. She's not one of those giggly girls she's seen in Konoha, and yet, she could be one. Definitely.

Her hands were on autopilot, and part of her wanted to just use her fan to clear everything with one sweep. Although that was the first thing Shikamaru advised against; and even if he didn't, she knew better – there were probably traps, milling around, un-triggered from the war-

A sudden explosion threw debris back toward her.

"_What _did Shikamaru say?!" She barked, and it didn't take long to pinpoint who the culprit was. His face was a dead giveaway anyways, the genin had an ashen face and an expression that was equal parts shock, terror, and utter humiliation. _Suits him right, _she thought viciously as she stalked up toward him. "Don't move things unnecessarily, ask Shikamaru or me if it's a big piece, I don't _care _if you have a new jutsu you want to try out – _Konoha – _Shikamaru!"

There was no response.

Dread filled her stomach – and at first, it was entirely _irrational _thoughts that milled about, her hasty, ridiculous reasons why he didn't respond right away. But once she stripped away her impulsive fears, she _did _recognize that he wouldn't stray from such a scene.

She shot the poor, cowering genin another glare. "Stay. Do _not _touch." And with that, she stalked her way around the shifted pile of upturned earth and tree stumps, to where he was.

"Oy, you _idiot – _we're not taking genin next time if there's going to be explosive tags-" her mini rant cut itself off when her eyes zeroed onto her partner's current state. Which was on the floor, his foot bent at an awkward angle, blood making its way steadily down his leg.

What might've been butterflies initially, suddenly died and turned into full blown (and in hindsight, somewhat irrational) panic. With a flash, Temari was by his side, knees on the ground to help him sit up. "Oh god, what happened?"

"That idiot genin," Shikamaru hissed, his voice sharper with pain. And then he sighed. "I _told _him not to touch anything."

"Well, he did," she replied automatically, and for a brief second, she was _almost _apologetic for her briskness. And as quickly as that moment came, it passed. She took a breath in, soothing her sudden nervousness. "That looks bad," she said, almost conversationally.

His dark eyes darted down to his ankle. "Yeah. It hurts," he deadpanned. Temari tried, and failed, to suppress the grin that'd crept on her lips.

She couldn't help it.

Her heart was doing that stupid fluttering thing that she hated so much.

And before she could even react, two of his hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders. The sudden contact was, somehow, not surprising, or irritating. It's not as if she'd suddenly gotten used to such gestures, nor come to expect it. Or perhaps she was thinking too much, because his eyes lifted to hers almost expectantly.

Temari sighed and wrapped her hands around his forearms, slowly straightening and then rising to her feet. With her sturdy grip, he slowly rose too, hissing as he gingerly tucked his injured leg underneath him. Him being upright did nothing to convince her, his sudden sway even less so. She grimaced.

"Maybe we should call off this mission." At his next hiss and the sudden added weight to her shoulders, Temari quickly amended her statement. "We're going back to Konoha, now."

"What about those genin?"

"They're idiots. Let them blow themselves up."

His eyes narrowed. "They're from _Konoha._" At her reluctance, he sighed – though his expression was somewhat amused. "I'm sure Kaka- the Sixth will scold them appropriately, but we don't need more crippled ninja."

_Not funny_, she thought as she allowed him to lean rather heavily on her shoulder. Upon arriving at the scene, though, the other genin had already fled, with a hastily carved note in the bark of one fallen log – notifying the duo that they'd returned to the village to inform the Hokage preemptively.

"Or they wanted to avoid you," Shikamaru observed more than joked. Temari rolled her eyes – though her heart hadn't calmed, she was ready for him to stop talking any time soon.

So she did the one thing that she knew would shut him up – and if she were truthful, she'd know part of this was due to her own impulsive need to _touch _him. His body warmth was nothing but a tease up until this point. So as fluidly as she could, she knocked his knees from under him (gently) and swung him forward.

His spluttering reaction made up for her sudden decision. "T-Temari, put me down!"

"You can't walk," she said coldly, attempting a little _too _hard to emulate his attitude. What she _didn't _expect was the sudden flush of red to spread across his cheeks. _Huh. _

"I-"

"Shut _up,_" she barked, more because the sudden realization of his blush had _her _blushing and he wasn't allowed to see that.

"You don't hav-"

"_I said, shut up, don't make me drop you." _

That certainly did the trick.

She sighed and looked away. This was hard enough as it was, _without _the subject of all her distractions in her arms – literally.

And their journey back was swift, though she didn't really want it to be so. Embarrassment fueled her strides, her cheeks thankfully not _blazing _but still, at the end of the day, betraying her. He was somehow quiet, in her arms - but she doubted it was anything out of comfort. Attempts at conversation played at her lips, but she never quite said anything. Besides, if she opened her mouth now, she was more worried about the rush that would come out unbidden by the lack of floodgates. If her face, her blush, was any indication, what she _would _say would probably lead to regret later on.

But as they approached the gates, she couldn't resist one jab - considering how he'd _somehow _managed to make himself comfortable in his arms. Temari didn't bother questioning it anymore; it was Shikamaru, who could probably sleep on the back of an animal. In her arms, he looked rather helpless: his ankle probably needed attention immediately. He was lucky she'd even found him.

"What are you going to do without me," she breathed, more to herself than to him. Shikamaru only gave her half a glance, before he, too, stubbornly looked away.

"I guess you'll have to move in."

"Maybe I'll have to."

"You're just like my mother."

"I'll be like worse if you get blood on my carpet."

"Our carpet."

"Details."

They both didn't bother bringing up the more-than-obvious pounding of their hearts, which he could feel against his shoulder, and her with him in her arms.


	19. Chapter 19

_[So, supposedly the movie Naruto The Last, will have a scene about this winter festival, in which Hinata will give Naruto a red scarf. How about a prompt about that said winter festival, with shikatema?]_

He only gave her a disinterested stare.

Her brow twitched, and she shook the paper for emphasis.

Still, no change in reaction.

She held the poster for a moment longer, contemplating whether rolling it up and promptly smacking him with it would allow him to register her unspoken invitation.

Apparently, Temari might've gotten more of a reaction out of that – seeing as his eyes slowly, painstakingly, dragged from the poster to her face. "Well, it's the poster for the Winter Fesitval," Shikamaru deadpanned.

Temari rolled her eyes. "Yes. It's the Winter Festival – and I happen to actually _be _in Konoha this year, through this _festival_."

Her _escort _only rolled his shoulders back; the words might as well have been blunt shuriken bouncing off that thick skull of his.

Irritation played at her lips. "So, as my escort-"

"-I'm taking you," he finished for her, the words not a question. However, his tone was _extremely _unimpressed, and even that much had her reeling.

He didn't _have _to make it sound like such a chore.

For some reason, misgivings flew on her tongue; if he was gonna _grumble _about it all night, she might as well take _someone _who'd actually look forward to it. If he was gonna be an ass about it, what was the _point of having some fun?_ She contemplated threatening the possibility of asking someone else, someone who wasn't taking her out of _obligation_ – but what if that elicited no reaction –

"I'll pick you up at six, then."

It, too, wasn't a question.

Temari took a deep inhale, the exhale out louder than she expected. And with that, she was calm.

"Sounds good."

She _swore _she saw his lips quirk upwards, but as soon as that possibility crossed her mind, his face was back to blank.

She glanced down at the poster at her hands.

If anything, that gave her _something _to look forward to, through the bitter and biting Konoha winter.

* * *

He was _precisely _three minutes and twenty two seconds late.

Not that she had her eyes on the mounted clock, or anything.

But when he knocked, Temari hesitated, contemplating whether she should even bother with the door. After another second's fight with herself, she sighed and swung it open.

Her eyebrow arched.

It's not as if this is the first time she's seen Shikamaru in winter gear, but it _was _the first time she'd seen him looking quite so… domestic. With a green (that bit was unsurprising) fluffy jacket, with a wooly looking hood, and a black scarf wrapped securely around his neck, she suddenly felt a little under dressed.

Judging by the way he glanced over her, he probably was thinking the same thing.

Despite herself, she felt her cheeks flush. _No_, she thought stubbornly – she was going to be perfectly fine.

So she stepped over her threshold to meet him, closing the door behind her before he could protest. She had her own coat on – just one of black wool, which never failed her before. She also threw on a scarf for good measure, but that was as far as her winter attire extended. She could still tell he was regarding her with what she _hoped _wasn't concern, thus she stubbornly met his gaze with her own. "Let's go shall we?"

His dark eyes almost seemed taken aback, but then they relaxed back into the usual borderline apathetic gaze. He visibly slunk back into a slouch, his hands sliding easily into his pockets.

And without saying much at all, he took half a step ahead – just enough to lead her, and the gesture was one she'd learned to accept without question. Besides, it's not like she had any idea where the hell they were going; for all the parading and "being guided" through the streets of Konoha, she only _truly _had memorized her route back to the Jonin building.

The thought lingered in her mind even as he opened the door for her; she shot him a side glance and ducked outside.

Her first thought was that it wasn't as cold as she expected.

And while she ended up voicing that thought, Temari swore she could hear a faint chuckle behind her. "What," she snapped, but the shadow nin's face had already slid back into apathy.

Damn, he was getting good at that.

And he did that thing again, taking a half step ahead of her, and Temari couldn't help but to marvel at the white dusting on the ground. It's not the first time she's seen snow – she'd never _quite _stayed in Konoha until winter, but that didn't mean she hasn't seen the weather miracle hit the ground before – but to see it still gently falling, touching parts of her too-hot skin, was something more out of a fairytale to her.

Not that she was enthralled by fairytales.

And as they walked, barely maintaining a conversation aside from the obligatory _whimsical wonders of winter_, she noticed that the stream of festival-ongoers only grew. Her sudden emotion – whether it was excitement or growing reproach, she wasn't sure – only grew tenfold as he suddenly picked up his pace.

The streets were _packed_.

"Welcome to the festival," Shikamaru said, rather _unimpressedly_, and Temari suddenly could understand why.

Children ran up and down, positively _screaming_, as their parents followed after them, eyes wide with panic. Booths and stores were all open, flashing signs advertising different foods and attractions lining the streets. Festive, colourful lights hung off the vein-like electrical wires, casting rainbow glows beneath them.

"So yeah, it's just a big clusterfuck of people and-"

Temari punched him in the arm. "Shut up, Nara, this is _awesome_."

The man visibly froze, before his one hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Through his scarf. Again.

She almost _didn't _manage to disguise the laugh that had bubbled in her throat.

"You hungry?" He asked, his tone strangely hesitant. There was something charming within that, as if he were _actually _concerned for her wellbeing, and not donning a mask of impassiveness.

She shrugged. "Sure, I could go for some food."

It took him less than a few seconds to regain his composure, and with a strange confidence, as if he'd done this before, he stepped into the crowd. Temari followed right after.

There were people _everywhere_. It wasn't as if Temari was claustrophobic, she just never knew that _this many people could exist at once_. It was larger than any kind of event Suna put on – and not as in the percentage of population attending. It was simply that Konoha had a _sheer _amount of people, a fact she'd always known but never factored _in_.

It was weird not to recognize him by his jonin jacket, instead the unfamiliar khaki green of his coat, coupled with his inky black ponytail, her only beacon.

And so she kept her eyes trained on that, swerving occasionally to avoid other fast-walking couples, and once even having to full stop to avoid some kid from blasting into – and through – her skirt.

He was already hanging around the stall by the time she'd caught up to him, his hand digging into his pocket. She watched curiously as he tossed cash across the wooden table, grabbing two piping bags in exchange.

Temari took one gratefully, the warmth of _whatever _it was nice against her uncalculatedly cold fingers.

And then, as she saw inside, she made a face.

"It looks like a fish."

"That's because it is," Shikamaru said patiently, pushing down the corners of his own bag and taking a bite.

Temari stared at her own for a moment, before she mirrored his actions.

It wasn't what she was expecting – sweet, and definitely full of _umami_, as she bit off a piece of the fish's head and swallowed. Not bad. She took a halfstep forward before she felt fingers pulling her collar – and her – back.

"You have to eat here," Shikamaru explained after swallowing a mouthful of his own food.

Temari frowned. _That's stupid. _"Why?"

"It's rude not to eat where you bought your food – and it brings more business in, if people are seen enjoying what you have to offer," he explained dully, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Temari's lip curled; for all purposes and all the years she's been the Konoha ambassador, they still had _stupid _laws and conventions that made no sense to her.

But she complied anyways, taking another bite of the pastry – whatever it was.

And after she'd finished, she mechanically handed him the wrapper, to which he threw out.

That was nice of him.

And without warning, he plunged back into the crowd – and Temari barely managed to follow him in. As he wove rather comfortably around, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to keep up. There were just too many _people_. Kids running, screaming, loud jovial conversations ringing in her ears. And all the while, he walked calmly ahead, his hands loosely at his sides, his stance relaxed – which was the opposite of what _she _was feeling, that's for sure.

Without thinking, she grabbed his hand.

_It's because there's too many people_, she prepared on her tongue, ready to retaliate when he'd undoubtedly laugh – smirk, _whatever_, but to her surprise, he said nothing.

His fingers closed around hers.

"Your hand is cold."

"Shut up," she shot back reflexively, though not exactly the response she'd prepared. He said nothing, as if he'd gotten it into his head that nothing particular had transpired.

Part of her was irrationally angry.

But the other part was _giddy_, most definitely from the attending-festival high she had coursing through her veins.

And as they walked, Temari couldn't help but to marvel at how _foreign _Shikamaru seemed. The colour and _padding _of his coat, the way he could tuck his mouth and nose into his scarf, the size of his hand – that was bigger than she expected. All of it seemed oddly mundane, considering how he was often quite the opposite in her eyes – but she wasn't complaining. In fact, there was something very _nice _about all of this.

They went about, occasionally stopping booth to booth for Temari to browse – not that she particularly found anything interesting, to say the least. Sure, there was the odd trinket here and there, but she wasn't about to fall for any tourist traps. The festival games she _did _rather enjoy, but Shikamaru had to, for all purposes, drag her away even when she'd _known _the game was rigged. ("That's the point," he'd said, "this is a _festival_, not a _fair playing field_.") There were also a couple of booths she suspected Shikamaru visited out of obligation, her first clue being the Yamanaka Flowers, the second seeing a certain blonde manning it.

He'd let go of her hand, then, and had gone over to speak to her lowly.

She didn't care much, though – Ino was Ino.

When he came back, he'd only looked a little less _impassive, _and to _her _surprise, he was the first to take her hand.

She hadn't complained about that, though.

After she'd claimed a rather large-looking stuffed bear from a somewhat hassled-looking clerk, Shikamaru hesitated. Her hand already outstretched, she forced herself to withdraw it back to her side.

He shrugged off his jacket.

"You're cold," he stated, as if he needed a reason to explain his sudden undressing in front of her.

She stared.

"I'm _fine_."

"No, you're cold," he responded stiffly, and to her reproach, he shoved his coat on _top _of the bear she held in her arms. "I can feel your heat through your hands, and I'm _not _returning you to Suna if you're sick."

Temari rolled her eyes, a sarcastic reply already on her tongue. Before they could come out, he'd plucked the bear from her arms. And then he gave her a hard look.

She grumbled and slid her arms into his coat.

It wasn't so bad – there was lingering warmth where the garment had hugged him, and it was _warm_.

(It smelled good, too.)

She barely managed to catch the bear he shoved back into her arms.

She, also, decided that fighting the blush that'd spread on her cheeks was simply not _worth _it.

"You realize you're not getting this back until Christmas, right?" She said into the bear's head.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand once, their fingers tangling effortlessly into each other.

"You're staying until then?"

"I guess so."

He grinned. "How about New Years?"

She crushed his hand into her grip. "Don't push your luck."


	20. Chapter 20

_I didn't have the heart to put up angst so soon after Shikatema became canon. So here's two._

* * *

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere."

"Do you have a preference?"

"No."

"How do I look?"

"Good," he says, his response monotonous. She stares.

"You didn't _even look_."

He raises his head from whatever the hell he had spread in front of him, his eyes raking over her body once before he drops his gaze. "You look good."

She slams a palm down on the table, the entire frame shaking at the sudden force. He, however, remains unperturbed, his face now icily calm as he lifts his eyes, but not his face.

She's sick – she's sick and tired of this stupid fucking behavior her boyfriend had been showing her for two years. A stupid, noncommittal passive aggressive _bullshit _that had worn on her and had driven her _insane. _At this point, there is nothing left for her to feel – the small voice inside her heart that had once stopped her from exploding now absent, the defensive rebuttal she'd force herself to feel when she remembers why she bothered in the first place.

She had fallen in love, with a Konoha nin no less. One who's smart, charming, the right kind of challenging that was both frustrating yet _exhilarating _at the same time.

But looking at him now, with his eyes almost bored and somewhat bleary – it is an expression she'd begun to get used to seeing, and each and every time she'd feel all the more annoyed. Angry. Upset. Disgusted.

Betrayed.

She doesn't know how to communicate it, because she's a physical person – she shows her emotions through her actions, her face. She shows her disappointment from their increasingly bad sex, the way they'd sometimes ignore each other as they march out their shared doors and straight to work. She doesn't know how to keep them _together_, because hell, she's trying but she knows its not good enough and when she's not even sure if he _cares, _well, how could it ever work?

And there he was, with his uncaring eyes, with his uncaring self.

She kicks his chair from underneath him.

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it as he lands ungracefully on the floor.

"Where the hell is the shinobi who fought me at the chuunin exams, who proved to me that first impressions means nothing?" she spits, and his eyes suddenly shoot up. But she doesn't care anymore, she doesn't back off because hell she is so _frustrated _that she swears she can feel angry tears building behind her eyes, but she blinks them back and swallows through the thickening of her throat. "Where is the shinobi who charmed me whenever I came to Konoha, who had found the nerves to ask me out despite being the laziest shithead I've ever met?!"

He blinks, all he does is fucking _blink _as she raises her chin, to which he hardly reacts to, either. However, it's that _stupid _word that he breathes that makes her lose it. Tears _actually _slip out of her eyes as she nearly wrenches him up and slams him against the wall. It takes all her willpower not to, because her blood is boiling and her head is light, she can't think straight, her hands and feet numb.

"_No, this isn't called being troublesome, it's called giving a shit!_" He's standing, she doesn't know when he was standing but her finger jabs into his heart, punctuating her every word. "You – never - _care_! For two _fucking _years you just don't _care_, I'm just so _tired. _ I swear to god, Shikamaru, you make me wish I'd never moved!"

He stares back, his voice icy cold. "If you're so tired, I'm sure you're welcome back in Suna. It's not like you're tied down, or anything."

She stands motionless, her brain processing every word. And so as the words sunk in, one by one, she can't control how her voice rises. "_Not tied down_? Are you _fucking _kidding me? We're _dating_, Nara."

He looks her dead in the eye.

"That hasn't stopped you before."

Deep down, she knows – she knows he's a physical guy as well, and as much as he may outwardly show his disinterest, he was a _passionate _lover, he'd always been. But that wasn't enough for her – that wasn't enough to keep her away from her home, from her family, from being annoyed and hurt when she sees the man she fell in love with only reappear when they were in bed.

But his words ring a certain truth – when they'd begun, she was still working as an Ambassador. Truthfully she'd moved to Konoha after a year into their relationship – and she didn't know what the hell she was expecting, especially not now, but it was never _this_.

She knows him. She knows him _so well. _ And even if nowhere he shows it – not through his words, his body language, anything – she knows.

But there is only so long someone can hide behind a shadow of an excuse.

"I'm _sorry _if I moved here expecting something more, okay? I'm _sorry _I moved here because I love you, because I want to start a life with you here." She swallows, each words falling off her tongue like tar – thick and dark and gritty and leaving bile in her mouth. He only stares, his mouth hard pressed but she can see his hands are clenched, his posture stiff as the words she _knows _she'd said stings him. Good, because she'd picked them on purpose. "What did this whole year even mean, what does _this _mean, if you're too scared to ever move forward?!"

She hopes for anything –a swallow, a twitch of his eye, _anything – _that told her he cared – that it matters to him the same way it matters to her. But he stands there, motionless, though his eyes flash dangerously.

She knows him so well.

"You're such a _fucking _coward, Shikamaru, a fucking _coward."_

She doesn't wait for an excuse, she doesn't wait for the words that would surely have her crawling back to him – have her forget that she had ever felt these feelings until they grow and grow and she's ready to leave him all over again. She doesn't wait for the kisses of apologies and the empty promises that he's _trying, _because God has he said that so many times but _trying _resulted in _change _and that hasn't happened once in the two years they've been dating.

She doesn't wait for his footsteps to chase hers, for his hand to grab her, for herself to completely freeze from their connected shadow. She doesn't wait for the cry of her name, the way he'd inevitably break and start crying on his own, and then _she's _the one making sure he's okay because she's so fucking in love with him.

She slams the door behind her, as she's done so many times before.

But this time, he never comes to get her.


	21. Chapter 21

_[Request: Temaris thoughts on Shikakus death]_

The first time she met him, her immediate thought was, "_wow, the Nara genes must run strong." _

They had the same face; same scowl, same jawline, same nose, same dead-set eyes that seemed eternally condescending, eternally _disinterested. _

Except his weren't. They were narrowed, livid with fury – an expression she never quite thought would cross the features of a Nara man.

His father's voice was gruffer, angrier – especially as he reprimanded his son, his tone sharp and his words unforgiving.

Temari wasn't one to feel pity. She wasn't even sure if what she was feeling _was _pity. Emotion swirled through her, a mixture of fascination, bewilderment, and somehow, grudging respect, but she wasn't sure if that also included _pity_.

The Nara family may _look _alike, but that was where the similarities ended.

She didn't expect anyone, let alone the head of the Nara clan, to adopt the same disciplinary regiment as Suna. _Konoha are too soft,_ she'd thought during the chuunin exams; they all let their emotions break through. They forget who they are, that they are shinobi, nothing but tools of war who should know _how _to kill their emotion. But here he was, his son a spitting image, two heavy scars marring his face as he lay down the truth. And for his son to be almost stunned into silence, as opposed to the sharply barbed retorts she was _personally _used to, well, it only went to show how Shikaku Nara was a man someone as pigheaded as Shikamaru Nara respected.

If it wasn't his son, then Shikaku was definitely the first Konoha nin she truly admired.

Not that she'd ever admit that, of course.

The next time they met, it was in passing –well into the planning stages of the Chuunin exams. Shikamaru was late, but no one was surprised. He wasn't always the most punctual, but that factor often slid by seeing as his brain was invaluable, and with his mere presence came progress that would never have been possible without him.

Although this time, when he sauntered in a mere ten minutes late (as opposed to his usual twenty), his father followed in behind him.

Temari didn't go to Konoha too often, but when she did, she'd always met Shikamaru at the gate. And whilst she stayed in the hidden village for however long her duties demanded, she hadn't seen his father at all. The only time she bothered asking, he merely shrugged. "Busy," Shikamaru said. It was a dismissive tone, so she didn't bother with further inquiries.

He was more or less the same, unchanged in the two years she'd seen him that one time. The same heavy scarring highlighted his face, although the bags under his eyes only had grown more pronounced. Her eyebrow raised as he followed wordlessly after his son, his expression not even apologetic.

Shikamaru shuffled in, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Shikaku lingered only a second longer, his eyes trained on his son.

She watched as he surveyed the rest of the crowd, and they rested on her briefly, before rolling past.

Temari didn't know why she felt a sudden nervousness, a sudden impulse to raise her chin – to make herself feel and appear as powerful as she could. It was childish, perhaps even a stupid and rather rash desire. She shifted uncomfortably as Shikamaru stalked past her.

"You're late," she whispered, if only to state the obvious.

His fingers brushed against hers as he sat down, the familiar notion eliciting familiar sparks down her spine. He sighed and rubbed his neck, a coy smile playing at his lips. But his voice was the usual lazy drawl, careful disinterest as he explained that his dad had taken him to practice his clan techniques.

Teases came as easy as a twist of a faucet, and while they bickered in a slightly-more-than-aggressive whisper. And as the meeting went on, she'd all but forgotten his father's presence.

She didn't have to look around, to know where his father was. The senior Nara was different from his son; he wouldn't hide from responsibility. When his presence was absent from the assembly of Ninja, she didn't have to ask – didn't have to hear Shikamaru's muttered explanation to some of his subordinates – that his father was in the intel department. What _did _surprise her was the assertion that Shikaku Nara was all but the head strategist for the entire war effort.

Respect.

It was something she'd been starting to feel more strongly, and as much as she respected – _had a crush on – _the younger Nara, the older she respected through and through. It was a shame the clan was one in Konoha; Shikaku's mentality and cold logic would've fit in Suna.

It's a shame, really, she thought, but as Shikamaru talked to her again, she didn't dwell on that notion once more.

.

_As expected of Shikamaru's dad. _

Because Shikaku was a genius; because he was the one who executed a near perfect plan. As expected. She'd never had her doubts of his intelligence; it demanded a different kind of respect that Shikamaru's.

It was a thought that crossed her mind rather frequently, and it did so once more.

.

As soon as his voice left her mind, she couldn't help but to whip her head to Shikamaru. Oh god, was he going to cry? Was he going to lose it? What face would he make?

He looked strained, his lips taught and his eyes closed, but no tears slipped from his eyes.

It was thanks to his dad; thanks to Shikaku that he no longer cried. Thanks to Shikaku, who'd he grown close to, that Shikamaru was the man he was today. Braver, motivated, a fully reasoned _Nara_.

She chewed her lip; she wanted nothing more to be by his side, to put an arm around him, to be the comfort she knew he needed. To be the comfort he now _lacked_.

But his expression shifted – it matured. When he opened his eyes, he had a new fire in his eyes. Determination.

It he wasn't going to cry, nor was she.

.

"I don't think I ever got to talk to you. Properly."

The flowers she held in her hand rustled with the breeze, a couple petals falling loose and falling with the wind.

"I," she swallowed. "I've always admired you. Always thought – why, _how _did a country so weak have a man like you? Tough, rational, _smart _– well, that's not unique to you, I suppose."

Temari felt a smile creep on her lips.

"You know, Shikamaru and I are really alike. Well, aside the glaringly obvious reason now. But he's smart. We have the same train of thought. And he needs someone to look after him. He's a crybaby, but you know that."

She bent down, placing the flowers down.

"I'll look after him. He'd probably tell you _he _was looking after me, but don't mistake me; I'm the one looking after _him. _So rest easy... Shikaku."

He was waiting for her outside the cemetery, and as soon as she saw him, the smile on her face was _real. _He took her hand, their matching silver band a testament to what she'd said.


	22. Chapter 22

_This is somewhat of a songfic. Inspired by a dear friend on tumblr, who roleplays the Temari to my Shikamaru, as she wrote a beautiful war fic. _

* * *

**_Only if for a night. _**

_And the only solution was to stand and fight  
And my body was bruised and I was set alight  
But you came over me like some holy rite  
And although I was burning, you're the only light  
Only if for a night_

_\- florence + the machine_

He didn't know what he was expecting to find. It was some ungodly hour in the morning - that much he knew, if only the sound of sleeping snores and lazy crickets were to go by. The night was still painted a dewy purple, and despite the war – the destruction and death, the stars still shone down upon them. Some were dulled by the wisps of clouds that drifted in the sky, but they were _there_, twinkling; a reminder that the world had a different agenda, that it went on without him.

Mist swirled around his feet, the ground mildly dewy and staining his shoes a shade of darker grey. His hands were cold, clammy – as they so often were, during the time of war. Sleep wasn't something that came easily to him. Not now. It never really _had_.

His feet were mindless. They wandered forward, and through the haze of the night, he wasn't completely aware of where they were taking him.

And then it made sense. Of course it did.

There she was, on top of a larger rock, her palms laid bare and flat against the cold surface. Her head tilted up ever-so-slightly, the tips of her lower pigtails brushing against her shoulders.

He coughed into his hand. She made no sign of acknowledgement.

So he laid a hand beside the rock, instead. And he tilted his head up, to follow her gaze, to trace the stars that dotted the night. Part of him wanted to touch her – an urge he never could quite fight, if he were honest. Part of him hated himself for feeling that way, that of all things to go through his mind, these kinds of impulses should be the _last _he thought about.

And yet, it made sense. If he weren't to see another day, then why wouldn't he think about her? She plagued his thoughts, after all, and sometimes it was only the thought of her that allowed him to sleep at night. He wished he were joking, but it was a fact he'd accepted about himself.

He didn't know how long he stood there, underneath the stars. Her presence was an arm's length away but their breathing – soft, quiet breaths that could be heard in the still of night – synced. It was all he needed to feel connected; to feel a deeper bond than the one they already had.

She broke the silence first, her voice quiet and dulled – softer than any voice he was used to her using. "There's space here for two, if you're going to linger."

He didn't bother to respond, instead he hoisted himself up. The rock was cold, cold against his already cold skin, and somewhat unpleasant against his clammy hands. But he was used to such trivialities. Being linked to shadows did that to him.

It didn't mean he didn't crave her warmth, the thudding in his heart from just being in her presence.

He'd tried to stop the feelings, once. It had almost worked, too. But lately, if it meant he could _feel_, then maybe it was a good thing he felt this way. Maybe it was a good thing he could focus on it – it meant he was still alive, and not a robot.

She doesn't bother with further words. Her eyes never see his, either. But it didn't mean they weren't _connected_. It was soothing – _nice _– to have nothing else in his mind. Just the quiet of night, the sound of her breathing, and the stars. They don't _need _to talk. He'd never realized this before. This was a kind of bond he shared with very few people, let alone someone outside of Konoha. But words were meaningless.

He was cold. And if he were to reach out now, he would grasp her warmth, would be able to capture it in his clutches. He could bring her hand into his palm, his cheek, each touch sending ripples of warmth through his body, warmth that was sapped out of him through each point of contact he had with the rock.

He swallowed the urges.

When a finger brushed his, he didn't as much as blink.

But the touch disrupted the still, cold waters, and so easily, _that _easily, sent heat through his hand. Electrifying. As if coursing through his robotic body, breathing life back into sore limbs.

His breath hitched, his throat felt constricted. He _needed _her. It was a fact he'd thought he'd had as clear as day, but it never had consumed him as such. He needed her in his life. And if meant they were to die tomorrow, then he wanted her tonight.

But those were mere thoughts that raced through his brain – that left him breathless and his mind reeling.

He knew, objectively, that this wasn't to happen again. Only for tonight; and then, like a thread slipping through his fingers, they'd fall back into their own routine. They'd ignore the connection they felt, the conversations they could have with just a glance. He'd ignore the choking, consuming flame that only she'd bring to him; he'd ignore the fact that he knew – _knew_ – that without her, he'd be nothing, a robot, living and fighting systematically.

The sounds of their sleeping Division was background noise, faded with the sound of crickets and the rustling of the dying breeze.

He fixed his gaze at the night sky.


	23. Chapter 23

_Happy belated New Year, loves, and thank you for the continued support into 2015!_

_Just another reminder to any new readers that I write a lot more actively on tumblr, recently I've been filling one-word prompts as excerpts almost exclusively on tumblr. Some I'm bundling and uploading onto ffnet, but most will be found there. _

_Toodles and have a great day. _

* * *

It was always around the same time, just as the leaves began to crisp and detach themselves off the branches. When vivid green faded to red and then a crusty brown, reduced to nothing beneath their feet. How Shikamaru sometimes wished he could be that way – detached, with his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes just lifted to see her.

Temari. With her head angled upwards, her teal eyes always a touch fascinated with the changing of seasons, as the months blurred from one to the next. There was that sparkle he'd learned to love, he'd grown to search for, that _always _found its way into her otherwise steeled gaze.

She truly was beautiful – with the sun catching her skin, facets of pink and gold lit with each ray.

With deft fingers, she caught a leaf in her grasp; half yellow, half orange. She held it up in brief fascination – and it was in those moments that Shikamaru remembered Temari's love for nature. It was something not many got to see, an aspect only surfaced when her soldier persona was stripped from her. But it was there, right now, in front of him; laid bare.

He loved her.

And that was why it was always hard to say goodbye.

She turned to him, then, and for a moment he thought she might offer the leaf to him. But she instead kept it cradled carefully in her palms. Shikamaru doesn't question it, nor question the half grin, half grimace on her face. He knew her well enough, knew that she was feeling it, too, despite the brave front she made. Despite the past teasing words, the past methods to disguise the loneliness the next months would bring. She'd admitted it once – only once – that the months that followed weren't the same without him by his side. It took only once, once where she didn't hide behind scathing teases – the reluctance to leave behind a fake smile. He didn't even know when it had _begun _to be a fake smile, but all he knew was that he could read her like a book. He probably always had. And thus, when the smile didn't reach her eyes, he knew.

Now, it wasn't quite like that any longer. No longer was the hanging question – _will she stay? When will it be permanent? _Just like other parts of their relationship, it remained unspoken, drifted down the valley, and allowed to let itself fall into place. Not that he didn't _want _that, he did – oh God, he did – and _she _knew, but she couldn't. Temari didn't have to say it, but he knew.

And she stood there, Temari, with a leaf in her hand and a half-sad smile on her face. She looked like she had more to say, as she always did just before they parted. But the hint in her expression wiped away, so fast he couldn't quite register it. She instead gave a smile, just a soft one – an upturn in the corner of her cheek.

It doesn't reach her eyes.

"I'll see you in six months, then?"

_Sooner, _he thought.

"Okay."

The smile only carved itself deeper in her features.

She hesitated.

His mind screamed. Screamed to ask her to stay, to ask her to be with him _permanently; _no more hopping back and forth and feeling as if half of him was missing. God he didn't even know when he'd gotten this bad, this _crazy_, but he needed her. He needed her like the air he breathed, needed to hold her like the way she cradled that leaf in her hands, needed her with him because he didn't know what he was without her.

He swallowed, and let those thoughts go down the river.

"Bye, then," she said quietly.

He kissed her. It took a single finger under her chin to angle her upwards, and with that same spark as she regarded the falling leaves, she gazed at him. His tongue brushed her lip and for a moment, a split second, it was perfection: with autumn around them and nothing but silent buzzing in their ears. But they broke apart, and her eyes fluttered open – and the façade is gone, the loneliness set in, and he can't bring himself to ask her to stay.

"Bye," he said instead.

And it was not until she was several yards away, did he sigh and push his hands back into his pockets. Autumn swirled around him, with the promise of winter on its heels, but at least he had the memory of her lips – against his – to keep him warm.


	24. Chapter 24

_I write a lot of oneword prompts on my tumblr, therewithasmile. After writing them there, I try to bring them to fanfiction. As you can see from my lack of updates, I often forget to do them, though - and I easily have over 20 drabbles on tumblr that haven't made their way here yet. That being said, I've been working on bundling a bunch at once to release here on windy and on 4572. Anyhow, here's one I particularly liked. _

**[prompt: shoes]**

"I can't - take - fucking - _ouch!" _The last was a hiss of indignation, followed by another full blown swear. At the sound of her pain, Shikamaru's head whipped to the bearer. Muttering her annoyance, Temari was hunched over, massaging her left ankle. It didn't take a second glance for him to see what was wrong - the bindings of her sandals had snapped. To make matters worse, just behind her was a particularly gnarled root. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

Shikamaru plodded over, and to his approaching footsteps, the blonde whipped her gaze upward. Her lip already curled into a frown, Temari seemed to only grow more hostile at his presence. "I got this."

"Your sandal is broken," Shikamaru pointed out. For a split second, her green eyes flashed down to her feet, and then back onto his.

"And?"

He sighed.

"You can't walk around like that, _especially _in these woods."

Creases formed in her forehead as she glared - but what he said rang true, and she knew it - that much he could tell behind the facade of anger in her eyes. But before he could even begin to offer a solution, Temari hunched over. And with dexterous fingers, she tied a quick knot with the straps of her shoes. She straightened with a satisfied grin. "See? Fine."

As much as the quick thinking was _impressive_, the fact still remained that the sandal wasn't about to hold. She seemed to be thinking the same lines, but stubbornness won as her grin turned challenging.

So Shikamaru shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Have it your way."

And so they walked onwards, occasionally trading quips. But otherwise, patrol was the same - until they could restore their military strengths individually, the allied nations were trading shinobi to continuing their rounds. Not everyone, though, were used to the varying terrains.

As evidenced by Temari's impromptu sandal, and her scowl just evidenced her frustration.

Shikamaru wasn't waiting for it, but the next hiss of complete and utter anger didn't exactly surprise him. However, the slight moan of pain _did_, if only because it seemed to escape her moreso than actually be heartfelt.

"Don't say I told you so," he called behind her.

The lack of response was suddenly deafening to his ears.

"Temari?" He turned around - only to see the blonde kunoichi hunched over, her eyes screwed closed, her breathing slow and pained. A quick glance to her sandals showed that her hasty solution had come undone. As if following his thought, she, rather violently, whipped off her sandal, exposing her ankle.

And with a flash, he was on her side. To say he was concerned would be accurate, especially because her frown was even _more _pronounced than before.

"Are you okay?"

The look she gave him was one of slight contempt.

He sighed and reached for her foot. "Tell me if it hurts," Shikamaru said, and he didn't wait for her to respond before he began to prod around her ankle. From his peripheral he could see her grimacing, but one particular spot had her hissing. "Twisted," he analyzed, and a small part of him was relieved it wasn't anything more. "We should get you back to Konoha."

And then he made the mistake of catching her eye.

He didn't realize it; he was much too close. He could see the pale freckles that dotted her cheeks, could see the faint wrinkles in her lips even as she bit them. He could see every strand of hair, every bit that fell into her eyes.

And then, her _eyes_. A glossy in-between of teal and green, framed with thick eyelashes. Currently narrowed, though as they locked onto his, they almost seemed to soften.

He was all too aware; all too aware of the heat that spiked up his spine and the way his fingers tingled, as blood away from his body and up to his brain. And for those few seconds, his mind quieted - gone away with the concerning thoughts, and much more focused oh the concerning _space. _Or rather, the lack of space - because if he leaned in, just a few inches, their lips may meet. And who knows what would happen next.

She blinked, and he copied reflexively.

Temari cleared her throat first. "Fine."

"Fine?" He was all to aware of how his voice had suddenly dried - just a little.

And then the hostility was back. "I'll have to use you for support."

So was his smirk. "You don't have to sound so disappointed."

"_Ha,_" she said dryly as she held out her arm. With a gentle lift, Shikamaru maneuvered her arm around his neck. He _did _have to give her credit; even with a twisted ankle she didn't flinch as she gingerly tested her weight, though she did hiss with disapproval.

And as they hobbled back, her nails suddenly dug into his shoulder. Ignoring his quiet hiss of surprise, she added, "Also, you need to get me new shoes."

"Buy some when you go back to Suna."

"If I'm going to be stationed in Konoha, I need a _good _pair."

Shikamaru all but prayed that he could hide his satisfied smile - or at the very least, that she couldn't see it from her spot against his shoulder.


	25. Chapter 25

_this is a reupload of a fic that used to stand alone on my profile. Late-spring cleaning, hehe. _

["I'm trying to flirt with you, okay?" Shikatema :)]

Shikamaru really didn't understand why he was Temari's guide sometimes – after all, she was prissier, scarier, and more troublesome than any woman he had ever met. Definitely out of Konoha. Perhaps the entire world.

But today was different: as opposed to solely being reminded _once again_ that she was all of those wonderful qualities, he also remembered that she was in fact, _older_ than her.

So when she halted him while passing by a bar, he didn't miss the longing look in her eyes before he sighed. It didn't take longer than a second for the sand shinobi to curiously poke her head inside nor for the rest of her body to disappear. Alarm shot up his spine when his escort disappeared, but the emotion was quickly replaced by irritation as he called after her, "Oy, woman, where do you think you're going?"

Her blonde locks pushed the flaps hanging above the entryway before her teal eyes locked onto his. "In. You coming?"

He narrowed his eyes. _Crazy woman._ "No, I'm seventeen."

The sand shinobi blinked and blew a breath between her lips (he didn't know what it meant at all) before she looked at him again. "Right, you're a crybaby."

"What does that –" Temari gave the Nara a wink before she disappeared once again. "- Hey, you, _when am I supposed to pick you up?_"

The crazy woman gave him no indication to a response.

Shikamaru sighed loudly and slumped against the building. "Jeez, she is too much for _anyone_ to handle." He slid down against the wall, balancing his weight between his support and his shins as he sighed again. _And I have no idea when she'll be out of here. I swear she's just doing this to annoy me. Yeah. Definitely._

It didn't take long for other shinobi and residents he knew to pass him, a few stopping but when he explained the situation, they would just laugh at him. In Ino's case, she gave him a sympathetic look, but when asked to join him, did her eyes turn cold. "She's terrifying, and I _know _you. You have no idea what you got yourself into," she paused before a wicked grin spread on her face. She gulped. "When you have to buy make up flowers, I'll discount them to ya, just because you're Shikamaru." Before he had a chance to protest, she skipped off, positively cackling.

Then it was Sakura. She at least graced him with a few minutes of company, before she apologized and ducked out saying that she had an errand to run for the Hokage. "By the way, if you get any injuries, run to me, okay? I can help you out, it's good practice." And with that, the pinkette had left on her merry way as well.

Why was everyone assuming he'd get battered, and have to _apologize_ for it?

Girls. They knew each other the best, he supposed.

He wasn't expecting his night to get much worst – in fact he could hardly believe it _could_, but after he had sent Choji to Barbe-Q on his own did he realize that his own luck was down today. After what felt like hours (and in hindsight, it probably was), the sand-haired shinobi suddenly reappeared. By the way she walked, she wasn't completely plastered (thank God, last thing he wanted to do was carry her) but her eyes were misted and unfocused, if ever so slightly.

Unpleasant memories of his father's own drinking habits left a slightly bad taste in his mouth, but he pushed it aside for the sake of his mission as he jogged up to her (she was beginning to stumble in the opposite direction) to catch her attention. "Oy, just for future reference, you're not allowed to do that anymore."

Her teal eyes focused onto his before she waved him off. "Stop whining," she responded sharply. He blinked – she wasn't slurring, so that was a good sign, but for some reason she seemed pricklier than usual. Wasn't alcohol supposed to have the _opposite _effect? _But of course, being the troublesome woman she is, no wonder she would behave exactly how I'd least expect her to._

He sighed, unable to help the small grin on his face as she scratched her head in confusion. "Where to?"

"I need food," Shikamaru responded, "besides, you had me waiting for quite a while."

"Oh grow up, _minor_," the blonde mocked, though her lips curled into a smirk as she held out her hand. It was almost _dainty_, her entire hand relaxed and pointing downwards as if she expected him to go down on a knee and kiss it, "I'm hungry too. Or I should eat."

His eyebrow raised at her still-outstretched hand. "I'll say." He lowered her arm for her and she giggled (what the hell) before following after him. She wasn't swaying, thank goodness, though she did occasionally stagger – each time he'd instinctively secure her with his shadow. Then she'd giggle and say "just kidding" in the most singsong voice he had ever heard her use.

When they finally made it to a small café, she all but dumped herself on the chair before he sat down across from her. Their server came with menus though she waved him back before he had a chance to leave. "Can I see your alcohol selections?" she asked innocently, her eyelashes batting in a way _they shouldn't bat_ and apprehension shot up Shikamaru's spine – her words were beginning to slur.

The waiter looked at her critically. "I'm going to need to see some ID."

Her teal eyes suddenly steeled as the Sand Shinobi drew her upper body to full height. "Excuse me," she said, her voice deadly and suddenly focused, "Do you know who I am?" The poor waiter seemed to have begun sweating bullets; Shikamaru didn't blame him, what was normally scary was now _terrifying_. "I am Temari. _Of the Sand. _Are you asking the official Sunagakure Embassador if she's _legal age_?"

Shikamaru sighed once more. As the waiter stammered apologies, he used his ninjutsu to carefully thread its way into her pocket and pull out her wallet for her. "Here," he offered, extending his shadow to give the man her ID. Temari's mouth flew open as the worker took a fleeting glance before he nodded and dashed away. But even as that happened, Shikamaru could see the blonde's temper begin to rise. _Oh well, _he thought, _I think my mom's worse._

"What the _hell_, you fucking _asshole_," his escort spat, literally spat as he waved away some excess spit from his face, "You – how did you do that - are you _stealing _from me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Shikamaru soothed, rolling his eyes. _Okay no, my mom isn't worse than her when she's __drunk__, _"I was just hurrying it along so you can have your next drink."

"Oh," and in an instant, all the fight was out of her voice. _Amazing_, he thought sarcastically. "Smart thinking. Though I guess you're always smart, you've always outsmarted me."

"You said smart three times."

"Ho ho, you're also the _grammar police_!"

He sighed.

The night was ridiculous. Every time they left a place (which wasn't often, but the point remained), she'd do that dumb hand extending thing where he'd just push her arm back down, and she'd grumble a little but that was that. At some point Temari must've gotten sick of it, because now she grabbed his hand and dragged _him_ along, and though he let her pretend she was leading he used his shadow imitation technique to correct her path and lead her back to her own room.

Yeah, he liked to think he was smart sometimes.

When they got to their doorstep, she surprisingly didn't question it and instead fumbled with the keys before dropping it. They both leaned down quickly to pick it up, their fingers colliding before she snatched them up and unlocked her door.

The sand shinobi turned to him. "Would ya like ta come in?"

"You're slurring words again," he said dismissively, to which she pouted (that was a new one) and rolled her eyes (that wasn't new).

"Sometimes you're such a killjoy," she huffed. Was she _sulking_? He made a quick mental note: keep Temari away from alcohol. Always.

But instead of disappearing inside her room, she instead leaned against the doorframe. "I always forget you're only seventeen," she said conversationally. "Why haven't you gotten yourself a girlfriend yet?"

He rolled his eyes. His mother always asked him the same question; she wanted a grandkid already – or at least the _possibility _of one secured, and every passing year she had grown more frantic. "I only would date girls I'm interested in."

"N'one from Konoha?"

"N'one", he imitated. She pouted again.

Then he realized something.

She did the blinking thing.

_What the hell_, he thought sourly. "So interested in maybe _different folk_?" Her voice came out almost like a purr. He blinked, the obvious answer on his mind but he flushed it out quickly._Seriously, what the hell._

"Well, potentially," he said lightly, to which she smiled to. Or more accurately, the corners of her lips dragged upwards but the rest of her facial muscles seemed lazy and didn't want to commit to it. It was a surprisingly cute look, if not amusing.

"Well, there are many options. Maybe you should look into the _sand_."

Oh.

So this is what plastered Temari did.

Hopefully not to all men.

He smirked. Although he found this exchange somehow terribly endearing, he thought he would have a better time just teasing her – besides, she probably didn't have any more coordination to hit him.

"That would be hard to see."

"I could guide you, if you'd like." She _winked_.

"I think someone like Gaara would be more effective, not gonna lie." Oh god, this was so _funny_.

She pouted. "Maybe, but he's Kazekage. Besides, his sister would probably be more effective. His older, _wiser_ sister."

Maybe this was why she didn't have a boyfriend.

_Yet_, he thought with a smile.

She didn't miss that. "Considering it?" Her voice was sly, somehow trying to be seductive (it was working, he'd admit), and if he wasn't so bent on making her crack, on top of really not wanting to be a creep, he would have been all over her in a flash. It looked like she wanted it anyways. But no, that wasn't a very cool thing to do, she wasn't in the right state of mind.

And if he hadn't known Temari as well as he did, maybe he would have had doubts. But he knew how to read her signs, and maybe he also knew alcohol would get her to say the things she always bit back, to perform the actions she stopped herself from doing.

So this was rewarding, in a sense.

"I'm considering asking Kankuro, besides, that way we could talk about girls."

That was the breaking point.

"Holy _fucking_ shit Nara, I know I said you were smart before but you're so daft!" All attempts at seduction vanished as she went in to strike him but he dodged (it wasn't hard) and she growled angrily. He couldn't help but to laugh at her, with her eyes wide and unfocused and her fist in midair, her brain lagging behind and not even bothering to correct herself.

"Oh, you weren't just asking me questions?" He raised an eyebrow playfully, and perhaps if her brain wasn't so laden with alcohol would she realize that he was just playing her.

But of course, her brain _was_ laden in alcohol. "Oh, you weren't just asking me questi- _fuck no_, you idiot!" She let out a small scream of exasperation. "I'm trying to flirt with you, _okay_?"

He burst out laughing then, all restraint (which was most of what he had left) free as he guffawed. His eyes teared from laughter as she turned purple and tried to hold her dignity. He tried to catch his breath but every time he inhaled he burst into laughter again. "You are one hell of a woman."

She stood in silence as he continued laughing, before finishing his last guffaw into a contented sigh. Clutching his ribs, he rubbed his eyes free of tears as she still stood at the doorway. But upon observation her posture had changed – crouched, defensive, and her eyes hardened. Panic instantly flew up his spine. "Ah, uh, Temari, I didn't mean it that way – I'm sorry, I ju-"

"I don't feel so good," she whispered as her stomach growled protestingly.

And at that moment he realized another qualities of hers– her pigtails, because as she retched into her toilet he was glad he didn't have to hold her hair.


	26. Chapter 26

_Takes place after the filler chuunin exams._

And with a rush of static, the three monitors went blank.

Shikamaru stretched, rolling the chair back onto its hindlegs, a satisfied groan bursting through his lips. He knew his mother disliked it - said it gave away too much of his character, childish for a _chunin_. Granted, becoming a chunin at twelve was still a fantastic feat: and he argued that, back then, he _still was _a chunin regardless of his age. So he'd stretch if he wanted to.

Two years later and that much hasn't changed. Besides, a good third of the participants had passed, so he was done his part on his books. No more chunin, no more _proctor, _he was back to being Shikamaru Nara, fourteen years old, and _tired. _

He saw an eyebrow beside him raise, a tinge of mirth on her face. In the back of his mind, maybe he'd question how easy it was to _be _that - Shikamaru, fourteen years old. Around Temari, seventeen, who upon first meeting wanted nothing to bash his face in. Her expression a mixture of impatience, bemusement, and_unamusement, _he was pretty sure he only _continued _to groan for her displeasure.

And then he dropped his arms.

"Are you sure you should be passing that many?" The question wasn't testy, or any form of weighty at all; still a change he was getting used to. It was probably due the environment, due to the relative silence they had plunged themselves into for the past thirty minutes. There was a weightlessness to her question that wasn't present in their normal banters, instead a professionalism that kept her tone neutral.

He shrugged. "My parameters were that they pass my question. And they did. I don't see why I should be making cuts."

And then his tone darkened - only because he was in part _asking _for it; at least that much, he was aware of. "I assume the stage in Suna is going to be much more brutal."

Unlike last time, amusement flashed across her features, and there restored was her usual demeanor. Gone away was the professionalism, and warmth flooded her teal eyes as she snorted. "Keep thinking that way, and we'll_have_become more ruthless - it's better than being _soft_."

"Yeah yeah," he responded before stretching each of his legs. At least the test had gone smoothly - and it was just in time for lunch.

… Lunch.

The question lingered on his tongue, drying his mouth, making it suddenly hard to swallow. Here - _here's _the evidence that he was still fourteen and hell, somewhat still pubescent, because he can face enemy lines but something as ridiculous as asking her for _lunch _seemed wrong. But no, there was no _romantic _connotation behind it, just two proctors, _coworkers_, going for lunch.

God damn it.

But he managed to get the words out easily enough, and her response only proved his overanalyzing as she stood up, brushed off her yukata, and without blinking she merely grabbed her fan before hesitating at the door. And so he shoved his hands into his pockets, and tried not to feel some strange sense of relief over the fact that they were comrades. Having lunch. Like anyone else would.

And so they walked over to the nearest food stall, ducking underneath flaps that hung over the entrance. Shikamaru slid into a stool, with Temari falling into step beside him. This wasn't the first time they've eaten together - but it may have been the first time they went to go grab food _alone_. Usually they were accompanied by his sensei or his other teammates. This time though, Asuma was busy and he wasn't allowed to see his teammates until after the official chunin exam reviews. He was all too aware of the silence - of the tension that was present before, but _tangible _now. He wasn't sure when it all started; surely it was there _before _they'd been alone, but they always managed to fill the gaps with talking. And he couldn't deny the fact that Temari was the one who usually took the lead - after all _she's _the one who spurned him on, whether with her nicknames or by physically pulling him aside - like she had previously, right after they visited during the planning of this chunin exam.

But this time, the silence was loud. A tinge awkward. And he covered it by doing what he first thought of: staring ahead. Ignoring her green gaze that he could feel along his neck.

"So you really _still _think we're the cruelest village?"

Her voice cut into his thoughts, sliced the silence that had begun to thicken like a well-sharpened knife - poised, skillfully, as if she'd been used to doing so all her life. Shikamaru couldn't help it, a twinge of a smile pulled on his lips, and he finally turned to face her.

Her head rested on the backs of her hands, fingers steepled together to form a small platform for her chin. Her green eyes, normally sharp, focused - guarded, were relaxed, easy. The facade of professionalism gone, she seemed _normal. _As if they went out for food all the time.

His own voice came steady. "The first time I talked to you, you tried to bash my head in with a fan."

She grinned. "Okay, I may be the cruelest kunoichi, but I'm one person out of an entire village."

"You're more than enough to compensate for it."

And to his combination of amusement, horror, and unsurprise, she merely puffed her chest out, a bit of what sounded like a _chuckle _escaping her lips. Typical, only the cruelest would take pride in doing so.

Right on cue, their food bowls clacked as the chef set their meals down in front of them. It was more of a secondary thing - as their conversation came easy, and all prior _whatever it was _faded away quickly. And soon they were chattering away, long after their bowls were cleaned and their chopsticks placed neatly atop it, and chattering they did as they eventually were kicked out and they roamed the streets.

"- that's _not_ what this is about, you _know _I would win-"

His grin grew wider.

"- No, see, there's your mistake. You need to account for your spacial relations, see if I've anticipated your technique and added a counter."

"I know you can think,what, _two hundred _steps ahead? That sounds more like five hundred."

"I'm pleased you remembered a remark I made two years ago, but yes, I have thought ah-"

"Would you two like to try our _special couple's meal_?" Interrupted a voice, somewhat obnoxiously. Shikamaru's head swiveled to the source of the sound, a waiter outside a restaurant, a smile plastered on his face.

"We already ate," he replied.

"And we're not a couple," Temari added, rather hotly. Fire was already present in her eyes from their earlier argument, but it only doubled at the insinuation.

Shikamaru blinked.

As the waiter did as well. "Oh, sorry, I thought-"

"Nope."

"Not dating," Temari deadpanned.

And as they walked away, her expression cooled - and her shoulders loosened, her face relaxed, and there was a strange half-bounce in her step that he noted.

_Not dating. _

Well, it was true, to say the least. And certainly that lunch wasn't a date.

Two comrades, coworkers, _proctors_, eating together.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and resumed where they left off, as easy as it usually was, as _right _as it usually was.

If only Shikamaru knew he'd encounter a very similar conversation a year later.


	27. Chapter 27

["shit, are you bleeding?"]

A hand flying out, nearly catching her in the chest, was the only reason why Temari stopped talking.

She knew him well enough. Whereas once there may have been a question – or even defiance – at his gesture, this time, she fell silent. He was still, still for even _Shikamaru_, and from her slight angle underneath his nose, she could see his eyes move. They swept the thicket and the forest they were patrolling, and while they were once chatting away, challenging the birds and the wind in volume, now they were muted.

Temari trained her ears, trying to pick out what had alerted him. Granted, he spent a lot of time in the wood. Forgetting for a moment that he was a Nara, the entirety of Konoha's territory were woodlands – and to her desert-trained ears, even the slightest rustle of bushes was enough to mask the sound of approaching enemies.

Well, she was getting better at it – but against the singing songbirds and the moving greenery, she couldn't pick out anything strange. Temari was beginning to doubt it was a sound, but rather, a visual – trodden grass, twisted branches, snapped twigs.

And then, Shikamaru's chocolaty-brown eyes narrowed.

She watched as his fingers, lithe and slim, form the familiar seal of his shadow jutsu. Her own reached for her fan – but the shaking of his head distracted her.

Part of Temari was _still _astounded that she didn't feel the urge to yell, to complain – but she knew better than anyone that the sound of her fan would definitely be audible in these woods.

Shikamaru couldn't tell her to _not _be prepared, though, so Temari shot him a hard look and left two fingers lingering on the latch. And then she turned forward.

From her peripherals, she could see blackness extend from their feet, slithering like a snake advancing its prey. The inky tendrils slid past them and into the bushes – and with a twitch of his eyebrow, the shadow split in two.

A second passed before a grin spread on his lips, and Shikamaru stood up slowly – deliberately. And then his eyes darted to the side, like a magnet, and he stood still.

As if answering his gaze, a kunai came flying at him, exactly from the spot his eyes had snapped to. Maybe she was listening too hard, but the sound spurred her forward – as soon as the kunai surpassed him and headed toward her, with one giant sweep she batted the kunai out of its trajectory. It clattered noisily to the side, spinning in place as it harmlessly scored the ground.

One glance at Shikamaru told her that the sudden attack didn't faze him, and once Temari dragged her eyes down did she realize the shadow had split into three. Before she could voice the question, the sound of three separate crashes answered her. Three ninjas, wrapped almost entirely in black, were dragged out of the woodland.

"Takigakure," said the shadow-nin, his voice already growing bored. But Temari could detect another note underneath it; a bit of pride, if not dismissive. And then his tone grew serious, darker. "Do you guys really have the audacity to be picking a fight _so soon _after a war?"

Temari didn't bother pointing out the fact that the captured ninja couldn't reply even if they wanted to, not with the thick black ribbons that obscured their mouths. He carried on regardless, his voice growing deadlier. "None of us have forgotten that you didn't participate in the war, and speaking of which – we have allies."

He turned his shoulder to her – and for a moment, Temari was caught a little offguard, if only because he seemed to be handling the situation so well. And in a surprising show of humility – or _something,_she wasn't exactly sure – he gestured his head towards her. "And because of it, we're not afraid to help each other, both for rebuilding _and _fending off intruders. And not all of them are nearly as forgiving as _we _are."

At his words, irritation and pride spiked at her stomach, both of which only managed to confuse her. Either way, with her fan extended and her annoyance piqued, Temari sank onto her haunches – but then the shadowy tendrils retracted, the ninja falling.

The Takigakure nin gave him a look, as if calling his bluff, but then his shadows reared back – like a snake ready to strike. It was all that was needed before one shouldered another, and the three threw glares, but as Temari raised her fan, the three bounded away.

And Shikamaru, once again, threw out a hand to stop her.

"Are you _kidding _me," she hissed, but with his limb in the way, she didn't dare to perform any jutsus.

His eyes rolled towards her. "They'll pass the message along."

"I really would've preferred them dead – that would send an entirely different message."

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pocket, the exhale aimed upwards as he tilted his head back. As she locked her fan back under the latch across her back, from the corner of her eye she could vaguely detect a faint trace of red.

"Shit, are you bleeding?"

It could've been a trick of the light, but even beyond the way it reflected off the facets of his skin, the scarlet was still visible. And even still, his expression remained neutral as he reached up and brushed a thumb against his cheek. The kunai must've scored there, she realized, when the kunai had flown to him. "It's nothing," he drawled, snapping her from her thoughts.

She narrowed her eyes. "You could've avoided it."

He shrugged. "But if I did, I wouldn't have been able to get him, too."

Temari's nose scrunched – more because she didn't understand, but it _was _Shikamaru; therefore he was probably right, after all. For a moment, she _did _consider challenging him, but then she thought the latter.

She wasn't _concerned,_or anything. Definitely not. And it's not like she hadn't seen blood before. But against his skin, so fair it was like he'd never seen _sun _before, the crimson streak was much more prominent than she had first expected.

And then his eyes caught hers, and her cheeks flamed and her fingers twitched, but she didn't care. Not much.

So she turned away first.

"It doesn't look deep," Temari said conversationally. He only hummed in thought as he fell in step behind her.

The thoughts were there – that much she couldn't deny. Concern that went beyond friendship, that touched places that she allowed during the war – only because it _was _a war. Now that it was over, she didn't know if she were _allowed _to feel them anymore.

But if it meant she'd react at the sight of blood – and not just any blood, but _his_, she wondered if it was simply all too troublesome.

And the groan that came with the realization of her thoughts reverberated through the forest, and out of sheer horror, she refused to explain the reason behind the noise that had burst through her lips.


End file.
